Fightin Irish
by CopperMax
Summary: Spot Conlon is the King of Brooklyn. Rois is an Irish girl, fighting her way (literally) through life as an immigrant with a little brother and no parents in the slums of Brooklyn- she's trying to keep her brother safe, shes trying to make a life for them, but its a little hard to do with bloody knuckles and not a penny in her pocket. Shall we see where their story takes them?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hey all, this is a plot-bunny turned sort of fleshed out story that's been on my drive for ages now. Thought I might as well post it. My other stories are on a bit of standstill considering school, but if this gets good reviews I'll post the rest of what I've got.**

 **Anyways, I don't own Newsies. I don't own, Spot or Jack or anything recognizable. I just work here. Rois and Eoghan are mine though, along with any** ** _unrecognizable_** **characters. Please don't steal them. That's theft and is considered rude.**

 **Alright, so that's all I've got.**

 **Read**

 **Review if you like.**

 **Thanks for your time.**

Spot liked to watch the fights. He didn't do it often. He didn't usually have the time, but today he'd made the time to waltz over to the less reputable part of Brooklyn where the fighting usually took place. Most, he noticed, were unskilled. Strong and brutish, but unskilled, with no real technique or speed. He'd have made quick work of them had he been in the ring. He wasn't though, so he settled for critiquing their style, or lack thereof.

The crowd roared as the winner of the last three fights -a particularly ugly man with a bulbous crooked nose, thick eyebrows and a spattering of uneven brown facial hair- pumped his wrapped fists into the air. The man grinned a lopsided, toothless grin as a new figure entered the ring with fluid movements that spoke of experience. The newcomer was small, less than five and a half feet and lanky, all skin and bones. He too, had his knuckles wrapped, and they were splattered with dried blood. Spot only smirked as the crowd began to jeer at the boy.

The man stepped lazily to the right, his belly fat jiggling with the movement. The boy mirrored his steps with predatory grace. The man fleered, making a crude derogatory comment Spot didn't hear. He was too busy watching this boy's movement. He had technique, a style. Fighting was this boy's life and it showed.

As the man lunged, the boy sidestepped, using the man's own momentum to throw him face first into the wooden rails around the edge of the fighting ring. Spot smirked.

The man roared in anger, turning back with fury burning in his eyes. He was _not_ going to be shown up by a mere boy. As he lunged again, swinging his fist in a sideways arc, the boy ducked, jamming an elbow into the man's kidney and dashing out of the way. The man recovered faster than the boy anticipated though. He didn't quite manage to dodge the next punch, which clipped his side. He stumbled backward into a defensive position and the fight continued. As the man wasted his energy with powerful punches the boy easily out maneuvered, his adversary struck quickly and painfully with elbows and knees to the most vulnerable parts of the body. A kidney shot, followed by an elbow to the jaw and a throat punch all in quick succession had the man slowing. He slapped an open palm forcefully over the man's ears, disorienting him. As the man stumbled blindly the boy then swung a leg out and kicked the back of the man's knee, bringing him to the ground where he delivered a punishing blow to the man's spine and then head, keeping him on the ground.

The crowd was dumbfounded. Spot was intrigued.


	2. Chapter 2

_~The crowd was dumbfounded. Spot was intrigued.~_

The boy glanced down at the large man before surveying the crowd. Then, he walked out. No celebration. No gloating. He just walked out. Intrigued, and wondering why, Spot slipped from the fire escape he'd been perched on and followed the boy. In under a minute, he was doubting this so called boy's masculinity. The clothes hanging off of 'him' were certainly typical of a male in this part of town, but the way they hung off of 'his' body revealed slight curves. The 'boy's' hair was shaggy and short, typical length for a boy on the streets, but the way his neck melded into his shoulder was almost elegant. Delicate. 'His' backside was full, round, and frankly, much too attractive to be a man's. 'He' was obviously a girl. Spot was having a hard time tearing his eyes from her. She had stopped by the outer ring of spectators, leaning against an old brick building. She looked to be waiting for something.

Carefully, Spot moved amongst the crowd to get a better view of her. He shook his head at societies' stupidity. She was obviously a girl, how they could've missed that was beyond him. Though she seemed to have wrapped something around her chest in order to hide her more prominent assets. She was… pretty, he thought unsurely as he neared. Her skin was fair, though it was marred with smudges of dirt and grime. She was obviously a girl, though, with those heavily lashed eyes, cupid's bow lips, and delicate jawline she had to be.

He almost laughed at her attempt to hide it. Her hair, a dark brown color, was cut shabbily around her ears. To be frank, it was an utter mess. It did absolutely nothing to make her look more masculine. Her shoulders were made to look broader in the dark blue button down she wore, sleeves rolled up to her elbows. The pants looked to be absurdly large, -they were rolled up around her ankles- but he figured that was to hide the curve of her hips and legs. She had on a pair of brown suspenders as well. The poor girl really had no hope of looking boyish.

"Hahaha!" came a shrieking sort of laugh. Spot glowered at the source.

Two men, one looking about forty and the other, who was perhaps in his late twenties, approached the girl. They both looked to be dock workers, muscled and strong, wearing dingy wife-beaters, suspenders, and tan pants. They were clean shaven, but dirty, glistening under a sheen of sweat. The older one had on a dirtied up red hat ragged with old age. He was cackling loudly as he held up a wad of cash. "Lookit dis, Sweetheart, youse done good!"

She didn't respond until the younger one put his hand on her shoulder. There was a dark angry scowl across her face as she violently shook him off, "Where's ma brudda?"

"Relax, sweetums, he's 'round 'ere somewhere," the young one said. Her eyes flared with anger in a way that would have made most people back away, but this man simply shrugged. "Ain't our fault 'e don' do what 'e's told."

She exhaled in a huff, eyebrows drawn together and eyes flaring angrily. "Fine." It came out as "foyne". An irish girl then, Spot smirked. Before she could stomp away, the man wrapped his meaty paw-like hand around her bicep and held her back.

"You ain't goin' anywhere, Sweetheart, youse still owe us, remembe'?" It was more of threat than a question. Her body went still, the muscles in her arms jumping as she closed her hand into a fist.

Spot bristled, eyes rapt on the scene before him. He wouldn't interfere. He had nothing to gain from that. But, god, did he despise men like him.

"Rois!" The voice was loud, high-pitched, but obviously a boy's. A young boy's.

The girl's features softened, her eyes scanning over the sea of people for the source of the voice. As the boy came into view, she shook off the man holding her arm and raced towards her brother, crouching down before him.

She spoke frantically, softly, in Gaelic. The words and sounds were familiar. They reminded him of a life he no longer lived. One where he had a mother and a father and a sister. His mother, who'd spoken words like those to him once upon a time. He shook his head. Moving with the crowd as they dispersed, leaving Rois and her brother to their own devices.

As he made his way to the docks, he wondered how Rois had come to fight like that. He wondered if maybe she could be of use to him. He could protect her and her brother in exchange for… winning money from the fights, perhaps? He wasn't sure.

Regardless, he found himself wanting to make sure Rois would be on Brooklyn's side should anything ever happen. He didn't want Harlem, or even Queens getting their hands on her. A girl who could fight was a rare commodity after all.


	3. Chapter 3

_~A girl he could fight was a rare commodity after all.~_

He'd made it back to fights a few times since then. She'd been fighting more and more, for longer periods of time against larger opponents. She did well, but it was getting riskier. She'd been taking more hits lately and it was taking its toll.

She was slower, not quite as swift or graceful. She simply wanted each fight over with. She never smiled or showed any sign of enjoying her win. She only ever slinked out of the ring or stood tall, waiting for the next opponent.

The last time he'd seen her she'd just barely escaped a monstrous fist headed straight for her nose. She'd grounded the man, but not before he'd socked her a few times in the rib cage. She'd have severe bruises, that was for sure.

Brushing back her mess of hair she'd shaken her head and exited the ring without a word. There been a lot of yelling after that. It seemed getting out while you were ahead was frowned upon. He'd shaken his head and left when she was forced back into the ring to face off against a much shorter and stockier man.

It been three or so days since the last time he'd seen her. She'd caught his eye from across the field and they simply nodded at one another, a respectful sort of acknowledgement. He got the feeling she knew he'd been watching her. That was where they'd left things- familiar strangers. He found himself to be oddly curious about her. He wondered if she'd gotten through her last few fights, if she was still fighting men three times her size. He decided to speak to her this time so when be arrived he made for the brick wall she leant against after every match.

He was late. The fight had already started when he arrived and if finished as soon as he got there. Rois, once again, was the winner, but she seemed to have taken a fair bit of a beating this time. She limped as she walked out of the ring.

He smirked when her eyes met his. She looked confused for a moment, like she didn't know what to do now that there was a strange boy leaning against the wall where she usually stood.

Her face was bruised and discolored yellow and she was holding her side as she limped towards him. She seemed to have decided that she didn't care if he was there or not. She let out a small groan as she leant on the wall beside him. "Fucking wankers."

Spot let out a small laugh at the way her accent returned in full force as she spat the words. To his surprise, the laugh was genuine.

"What?" she asked, her accent suppressed. She sounded more like a New Yorker now… or some strange Brooklyn-Irish hybrid accent.

"Nothin'," he smirked, watching the way her eyes appraised him. She was sizing him up, determining whether or not he was a threat to her. She didn't seem to be scared of him. Though he a had a feeling she knew he was more than he looked. "That was some fight," he commented, more to see what she'd do than anything.

She snorted, "Shuah, it was." She seemed more annoyed than anything. So she wasn't cocky, interesting.

"What's yer name?" he asked, wanting to see if she'd tell him. She raised an eyebrow at him, seeming to wonder if he was serious. "Ya do got one, doncha?" He smirked.

She rolled her eyes, exhaling in a way that let him know she was annoyed with his response. "Rois."

"Irish," he commented, just making sure.

"Yah," she said, her eyes suddenly boring into him fiercely. They were really more green than brown, he noticed. "Dere a problem?"

He only shook his head, still smirking. "Nah, me ma was Irish." He belatedly realized he'd never really said that to anyone before. Sure, the guys knew he had irish blood. But they hadn't a clue as to his family history.

She seemed to visibly relax at his words. Her shoulders slumped, the tension lost and her eyes softened, no longer boring into him. "Sorry," and the apology seemed sincere.

"Ain't yer fault," he laughed, looking over at her. "Ya from there?"

"I am an' I amn't," she said with that irish brogue, smiling over at him with an almost playful glint in her shadowed eyes.

"What's dat supposed ta mean?" He asked, an eyebrow raised in suspicion. She was almost at ease around him, something he wasn't used to from people other than Jack and Red. He was Spot Conlon, the King of Brooklyn, and people feared him.

She looked like she would respond when a voice suddenly caught her attention.

"Rois! Are you a'ight?" It was her brother. All four feet of him was rushing towards them. The boy didn't look much like her really. Their hair was the same dark brown color… and their eyes may have been the same rounded shape, but beyond that, they didn't look related. The boy's nose was longer and sharper and thicker, where her's was softer and smaller with a thin bridge and a rounded tip. Her cheekbones were higher, though less prominent than her brother's and the boy's jawline was squarer and harder that hers. In fact everything about the boy was squarer, sharper and stockier than her.

She let out a small pained sound as the boy hugged her.

"Rois?"

"I'm a'ight Eoghan," she smiled, ruffling the younger boy's light brown hair. She had a dimple in her right cheek, Spot noticed. "Told ye, I'd win."

"He hurt ya," the young boy said, his voice sterner and angrier than Spot had expected. "They shouldn't make you fight dose men. They'll hurt you."

 _Make her fight?_ Spot thought.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Hey everybody! Thanks for all your reviews!**

 **To my Guest reviewers: Thank for taking the time to read this. I'm really happy you like the start off! If you've any comments or questions I'd love to hear!**

 **To Joker is Poker with a J: I too am a sucker for a strong female lead. This is my attempt at creating one, a real one with a fleshed out story and a real personality... not just poorly developed female character that beats stuff up, which is a trap I know people (alas even I at a point in time) have fallen into. Lemme know what you think of this chapter!**

 **To Jaywing: Well, here's another update. All my chapters are a bit short (this one especially), but that mostly so I can update faster. With all my AP classes and testing I'm a little overloaded but I love writing so I try to make time.**

 **Anyways! Leave a review, tell me what you think. Or just enjoy. Either way, thanks for reading! :)**

* * *

Make her fight? _Spot thought.~_

She sighed, her eyes sliding over to meet his. "Not now, a'ight?" she said to her brother, who nodded unhappily before turning his attention to Spot. "Eoghan, this is…" she trailed off, realizing she didn't know his name. A light blush rose on her cheeks as she did.

Spot smirked, taking his hat off to tilt his head towards them in a little bow, "Spot Conlon, King a' Brooklyn."

She laughed a little, "King, huh?"

"Yessum," he smirked. "Ise know everythin' t'at's happenin' in dis part a' town'."

"Ya?" she said, her eyebrows raised in both curiosity and amusement. "How's dat?"

"Can't tell ya dat, Dollface," he smirked, winking at her, "It'd defeat da purpose."

She laughed, small and quiet, but real. One hand was still on her brother's shoulder. "O' course, your majesty," she teased, her eyes sparkling as she mock bowed.

"'Ey, respect da title," he said, noticing in amusement the way her little brother was glaring up at him in suspicion.

"Rosie, git ova' 'ere, we'se got ya next fight lined up!"

The light in her eyes dimmed as her features fell. Her tongue peeked out to wet her lips and then she had pushed herself off the wall. She looked over her shoulder and sighed before turning back to him. "Could ye watch me brother fer me? Fer a bit?" her voice was hesitant and a little bit worried. She didn't seem to want to ask him this, but she didn't look like she had a choice.

Spot nodded as Eoghan protested. "I don't need-". 'I' came out at 'Oi', the brother had the accent too, though it was less pronounced. He sounded more like a Brooklynite than his sister did.

"Please, Eoghan?"

The younger boy paused, nodding as she turned and walked with a well-concealed limp towards the two men Spot recognized as her handlers of sorts. They seemed to control her fights. They also collected piles of money each time. He guessed they were using her as a means of making some cash. They roughly patted her on the back, pointing out someone on the other side of the crowd and whispering into her ear. The younger one had a hand low on her back, standing closer to her than was strictly necessary. Spot didn't like it.

And from the way young Eoghan was glaring at the man's back it was safe to say he didn't either. "She shouldn't fight," the boy whispered.

"Girls ain't made fer fightin' but yer sista's pretty damn good at it from what I've seen," Spot said, still staring over at her. She was shaking her head, gesturing angrily and glaring at the two men.

"She shouldn't havta fight," the boy continued lowly. "I'm gonna getta job. An' den she won't havta fight no more." The boy was determined. "I'm gonna protect 'er." Spot didn't miss the meaning behind those words. Don't mess with my sister.

Spot smirked at the warning, knowing the boy couldn't really stop him, but respecting the kid just a little more for it. He looked down at the little boy, realizing how similar this boy's story was to some of his newsies'. He nodded in response.

The boy studied him for a moment, deep dark eyes studied the older boy with a studious intent before he came to a conclusion, squaring himself before he looked up at the older boy, "Youse a newsie, ain't ya?"

Spot nodded, "King a' Brooklyn, leada' of da Brooklyn newsies, kid."

The boy's mouth fell open, forming a partial 'o'. Then, he swallowed and shook his head. "If wese can get away from Rich an' Walt can… could youse make me a newsie… sos I can take care a' me sista?"

"Dat Rich an' Walt?" Spot asked, gesturing to the men on either side of Rois.

The boy nodded.

Rois was shaking her head now, pulling away from the two and stomping towards them… or as well as she could stomp with that limp. She looked flaming angry… and Spot found he appreciated the way anger lit up her eyes. "Eoghan, c'mon we-"

"'Ey get back 'ere!" the older one yelled in that raspy voice of his.

"C'mon Sweetheart, ya got nowhere ta go an' debts to pay."

She paused, fists clenched at her side, fire burning in her eyes.

"Food, housin'… clothin'… ya got debts, Sweetheart, and yas gotta pay 'em off…" the younger one grinned lecherously, placing an arm around her shoulders. He lent to whisper something in her ear, something that made that fire in her eyes die a little.

He found himself hating this man already.


	5. Chapter 5

_~He found himself hating this man already.~_

She nodded, her eyes flicking to Spot briefly before looking away. "I ain't gonna be able ta beat Blista'," she said suddenly. "His bicep's da size of ma head… and I ain't gonna have da same speed with ma side like dis…"

The older one growled, "Ya betta win, girlie, or Youse is findin' a ways a' paying back all da money wese lose bettin' on ya."

She was holding back a snarl, he could see it in the way her eyes flashed and lips pursed. "I won't be able ta beat 'im."

He grabbed her then, his face so close she cringed away from his whiskey laden breath. "You don' hava choice girlie. You ain't allowed ta lose 'till wese say."

"Let go a me," she snarled as she shook off his grip and started back towards her brother and the boy she'd been talking to earlier, Spot. Spot Conlon, the boy with the fierce blue eyes that stared right into her soul.

"You know what happens to lil' goils who don't listen?" The older man yelled angrily.

She didn't stop as she approached him. Nodding her thanks to the newsie boy and moving to take her brother's hand.

"Dey and dere lil' bruddas end up on a boat back to the emerald isle," the man continued.

"Rois-" Eoghan began looking concerned as he glanced the two angry men behind her.

"C'mon, we're finding somewhere else for ya ta stay," she said quietly.

"What?" Eoghan burst.

She blinked, the action seeming to hold back pain. Her eyebrows furrowed as she exhaled and opened her eyes again. "Yee ain't safe wit me."

"Rosie," the younger one sang warningly.

Spot decided if there was a way to get Rois on his side this was the way to do it. "Ise can take 'im ta da lodgin' house. Kid'll make an a'ight newsies, I think." He smirked down at the kid for a moment as Eoghan's face went from angry to surprised.

Rois looked up at his through guarded eyes. "Yah? An' what's in it fer ye?" She was being careful. He had a feeling she'd accepted help before and they'd turned it around on her. She wasn't making the same mistake twice.

"A newsie, fer one," he smirked. "And if 'e's around it means I'll be seein' more a' you, don' it?" he winked.

She didn't react much. It was obvious she was focused on her brother. "'E…'e'll be a'ight?"

"Ise can-" Eoghan began but was cut off by a sharp look from his sister.

"Youse swear it?" She asked, the words almost desperate. She snuck a glance over her shoulder at the men standing maybe ten feet away, staring at her. She bit her lip.

Spot nodded.

"Say it," she said, eyebrows furrowed and eyes hard. "Aloud. Swear it." She wasn't about to let go easy.

Spot couldn't hold back the small smirk as he said, "Ise swear on da grounds a Brooklyn and me own life, I'll make youse brudda a newsie, and he'll be a'ight."

She exhaled then, the hand on her brother's shoulder squeezing tightly before she bent down and quickly said, "Is breá liom tú dheartháir beag."

Gaelic again. Familiar, but indecipherable. At one point in time, Spot had known what those words meant. At one time, he'd been able to speak it. But that time was passed, the words had lost their meaning, the sounds became nothing but vaguely familiar noise to him. Eoghan had no time to respond.

"I'll come back for yah, I promise. Geallaim duit."

The brunette girl stood, her locking eyes with Spot's bright blue. She nodded her thanks before turning towards the men, who grinned victoriously, eyeing Spot with something like contempt.

Spot didn't move. He watched with stone cold eyes as the younger man gripped her arm. She shook him off angrily, shoving him to the side. He growled something in response grabbing her by the back of the neck and forcefully lead her out of the alley. Spot frowned, wondering if he should interfere. He had a feeling that wouldn't go well for his newsies though, so he didn't do a thing.

Eoghan was looking up at him now. The boy was trying to be tough, that much was obvious. He was doing fairly well, to be honest, but he seemed a bit lost without his older sister. He was nervous standing there alone.

Spot pushed himself off the wall and made towards the lodging house knowing the boy would follow behind him.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Hey all! Ill apologize now for the delay- AP Exams are...well horrible. But I'm back now, with another chapter for you lovely few who've elected to read this little story of mine (I love you! Thanks for your favs/follows/reviews). Anyway, enjoy you week friends and leave me review if you enjoy the chapter. I love you feedback and I'd love to hear about where you feel the characters are headed. How do you all like Rois and Eoghan?**

 **To my reviewers:**

 **Joker is Poker with a J: I'm so glad you like the characters! Rois isn't getting away from creep 1 &2 (love the nickname XD ) just yet, but Eoghan's on his way to being a newsie... Not much Rois in this chapter, but she'll be coming. Thanks for your continued support!**

 _~Spot pushed himself off the wall and made towards the lodging house knowing the boy would follow behind him.~_

Eoghan was feeling severely out of place standing beside the Brooklyn newsie leader. Spot hadn't seemed much more than a kid his sister's age at the match. In fact, Eoghan had thought him just another street urchin until he'd gotten a closer look.

The hat and clothes were enough to show he was a newsie- discolored, but mostly clean khaki pants, a button up shirt and a pair of well-worn suspenders that must have been red at one point-, but he stood with a certain self-assured confidence that had made Eoghan slightly nervous even as he'd glared at the older boy for making a move on his sister. It was a confidence that spoke of power and ability. The older boy was simply oozing with it- standing straight backed and strong, walking casually in a part of Brooklyn that had even grown men walking a bit faster. That confidence only grew as Eoghan followed Spot through back alleys and bustling streets. It was obvious Spot knew Brooklyn like the back of his hand. It was just as obvious that Spot was feared mightily as well as respected. Nobody dared challenge him even as they strode through back alleys and thief infested roadways. Smaller boys looked up with side-ways smiles and eyes wide with awe. Older boys nodded their respect, moving quickly out of the newsie King's way.

Spot stopped before a dilapidated two-story building with a rotting door frame and window sills. It was old and falling apart, mold climbing the outside walls as the dirty shutters banged against house. Above the door was a sign, whose blue-green paint had been chipped and faded by time which read: "Newsboy's Lodging House". Eoghan stopped beside Spot, trying his hardest to look tough and unafraid.

Spot smirked down at him. Eoghan faltered for a moment, sure the older boy saw right through him. Mirth shown on the older boy's features as a small almost-laugh escaped him. "You'll fit righ' in, kid," the boy said with something like amusement in his voice.

Eoghan took a breath and took his first steps into a new life.

* * *

It was nearly two weeks before either Eoghan or Spot saw Rois again. In that time, Spot had introduced Eoghan to his newsies. Most hadn't really acknowledged the new boy-Brooklyn wasn't the friendliest borough in New York-. A few bade him a small welcome and some of the younger boys smiled, but no one made a move to really embrace the young irish boy. That was until they got him selling.

Spot hadn't offered to show the boy the ropes. He did introduced him around, and show him a few boys to hang around though. Eoghan was a little disappointed, but not surprised by the lack of attention- he was used to being on his own, more or less. Spot, instead of showing the boy himself, had his Second, Red, show Eoghan exactly what being a newsie entailed. Red was a large boy with dark skin and brown eyes. He had a very prominent Brooklyn accent and was easily the largest boy in the Brooklyn Lodging House. He was a strong guy, and a tough one, he had to be, to make it in Brooklyn, especially as Spot's second, but he was kinder than he let on.

As he showed Eoghan the ropes he smiled and eased the younger boy's fears, bringing him into the fold and helping him to establish relationships with the other newsies little by little.

Spot hadn't said more than a few words to him in those days, but Eoghan knew he was being watched. He never caught the newsie king monitoring him, but the boy wasn't usually too far away. He was keeping an eye on Eoghan without making it obvious, without causing a scene. Spot nodded at him with a smirk when Eoghan caught his gaze during lunch at Ray's on the third day.

From there, Eoghan had learned not only to sell, but who to make friends with and who not to. Most of the boys were fun-loving, kind, if a bit rowdy and prideful. All of them were tough, they had to be, to be a part of Brooklyn, but some were just plain mean. They picked on the younger boys for fun, though never around Spot. Eoghan had learned quick that no one defied Spot. And it was easy to see why. Though the Brooklyn leader was slighter than most in Brooklyn, his stature less intimidating, he was faster and meaner than any one of him if you got him going. His fury was ice cold, controlled and directed with a ferocity that made even the larger boys quake in their shoes.

He was terrifying. And he demanded respect.

He did, however, take care of them. Eoghan had it first hand. Spot took care of his newsies whether it was slipping a few pennies into the pocket of a struggling newsie, knowing he hadn't enough money for bread that day or beating a scabba' into submission. Spot allowed scuffles but never a soaking, nothing to the point of serious injury. Unfair soakings resulted in a soaking from Spot himself, and nobody wanted that. Nobody.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: SORRY EVERYONE! I WAS SUPER SICK AND THEN I HAD TO CATCH UP WITH SCHOOL CAUSE THE TEACHES DON'T REALLY UNDERSTAND THAT WHEN YOURE THROWING UP YOU CAN'T DO MATH HOMEWORK**

 **sorry.**

 **anyway, in response to your reviews...**

 **Joker is Poker with a J:** Sorry about the whole notification thing... i don't really know whats up with that... BUT THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR FOLLOWING THE STORY THUS FAR! ILY! Sorry about Rois, but I'm glad you missed her a bit :) means I must be doing something at least a little bit right. I'm glad you liked Eoghan's into to being a Brooklynite! They'll be more of that in this chapter and more of Red. :) Tell me what you think and if you've got any suggestions, predictions, or ideas, or just plain musings. Thanks for sticking with me!

 **Jean-Moddalle:** Thanks for the review, every little bit helps and I'm glad you liked it. Lemme know what you think of this chapter?

* * *

~ _Unfair soakings resulted in a soaking from Spot himself, and nobody wanted that._ Nobody _._ ~

It was safe to say Eoghan liked Spot, even if they didn't talk much. At all, really, so it was a bit of a surprise when Spot strode up to the he table he sat at with the younger Newsies- Legs, Bones, and Bait. Legs was a small boy with a tousled mess of brown hair and a weird sense of humor, but wasn't usually around much. He ran messages to the other boroughs for Spot. Bones was quiet. The boy was tall and extremely lanky, with straight black hair and blue eyes. He looked angry most of the time, but he was exceptionally kind. Bait on the other hand was loud-mouthed and unafraid though exceptionally tiny. He was the youngest newsie in Brooklyn, but he might've been the loudest. Eoghan had noticed the kid idolized the Brooklyn leader. Bait looked up to Spot in a way Eoghan didn't quite understand. The boy shut his trap immediately when Spot showed up, giving his full attention to the brooklyn leader.

"Boys," Spot had said simply in greeting.

"Hey Spot," Legs had grinned, completely at ease. He and Bait seemed to be the only ones. Spot had smirked at the boys, a twinkle of something close to amusement in his piercing blue eyes.

"Hi," Bait had squeaked embarrassedly as Bones gave a small wave.

Eoghan had simply looked at the older boy.

Spot looked at him. "C'mon Kid, we've got somethin' to talk abou'," he said motioning for Eoghan to follow him.

"A'ight," Eoghan said, slipping out of the booth and following him.

Once out of Ray's, Spot turned to the left and stood just inside the mouth of the alley there.

Eoghan burst, "What is it? Is it Rois? Is- is she okay?"

Spot held up a hand, his blond eyebrows raising, signalling Eoghan stop. He did, with a small struggle.

"Rois is fine for righ' now Ise think," Spot had said in a very business-like manner. "Ise got a birdie keepin' an eye on de fights for me" Spot didn't mention how that birdie had told him she'd gotten the shit beat outta her in her last fight, ending up pinned to the ground underneath a man at least three times her size and weight, or how she'd been getting into increasingly harder fights with increasingly bigger men who landed more and more hits on her each time since. He didn't say a word about the end of her winning streak. Spot also didn't say anything about the few times he'd been to visit the girl who thanked him with glassy eyes and a truly grateful tired smile for taking care of Eoghan even when her eyes were black, and her body bruised, broken, and swelling. "Ise just wanted ta know how youse gettin' along 'ere. Da boys seem ta like ya, a' least."

Eoghan grinned a little bit. "I like it 'ere. I like it a lot…"

* * *

 **A/N: Eoghan's gonna need a newsie, ain't he? Any suggestions? :)**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: DOUBLE WHAMMY!**

 **here's no.2!**

 **can i get a few reviews?**

* * *

~ _Eoghan grinned a little bit. "I like it 'ere. I like it a lot…"_ ~

Spot smirked. "Good. Red says you may be ready ta sell by yourself. But Ise don' let ma younge' boys sell alone. So youse is gonna sell wit Bait and Bones by da Park fer a while. Pike, Red, an' Pickles have de neighborin' blocks. Ya run into trouble youse can't handle, ya find dem."

It was an order, not a question and Eoghan nodded readily, realizing even if he did like Spot, and Spot seemed to like him, the newsie leader was serious. He was intimidating.

"Good," Spot grinned, the ice in his eyes breaking. Eoghan felt like the older boy knew exactly what he'd been thinking by the way his eyes gleamed.

That had been nearly three days ago and Eoghan hadn't spoken to Spot since, barring the occasional nod of acknowledgement. But while selling by the park Legs had come sprinting towards him, breathing heavily and sounding hurried. Eoghan had paused, the rest of his papers still in hand. "What's goin' on, Legs?"

"Spot wants ya. 'E's by da docks," Legs panted out, standing up straight and taking Eoghan's papers. "Told me ta sell dese fer ya while youse was gone."

"But-" Eoghan's curiosity got the best of him. "What does 'e want?"

Legs shrugged, "I dunno. Ain't ma job ta know."

That was most likely why Spot chose him as his messenger bird. Eoghan sighed, but nodded, giving Legs the nine or so papes he had left.

Eoghan hadn't planned on running to the docks. In fact, he had been dead set on waltzing down to the docks in a leisurely fashion, that was how the tough guys like Spot walked, but as he thought about how out of breath Legs had been and the unknown reason he was being summoned, he began walking faster. And faster. And then he thought that maybe Rois had come back and was looking for him. He started running.

He slowed as he approached the docks, breathing heavily and scanning the faces of everyone he passed.

One of the older newsies, Pick, intercepted him. "Eoghan, right?" He nodded in response, staring up at the bony kid. "C'mon, you have a visitor." His speech was more articulate and proper than was typical for a newsie.

"Visita'?" Eoghan asked, allowing himself to hope it was his sister.

"Yeah, kid, She's with Spot."

"Rois!" Eoghan grinned, "She's here! Where?"

Pick grinned, "Calm down, kid, you'll see her in a minute. Like I said, she's with Spot." Eoghan followed Pick anxiously, standing as tall as he could, searching for a familiar face.

Then, he saw her, she was standing in front of the piles of boxes that the Brooklyn boys had long ago claimed as a hangout. Spot usually claimed the top most position. It was symbolic of a throne. Everyone knew to sit a level below. It was never explicitly said aloud, it was just known. But now, Spot was standing on the docks. He was wearing a black and white checkered shirt, with the sleeves rolled up past his elbows and a pair of brown pants, as well as his signature red suspenders and newsboy hat. Beside him, was Rois. She stood a few inches shorter than the newsie leader, the top of her head level with his nose. She was wearing an old white button-up with the sleeves rolled to her elbows and a long dark brown skirt with ripped seams and patched up holes.

Eoghan grinned boyishly, calling out, "Rois!" and running toward her. Her head whipped around, her short, messily cut hair flying around her face. She smiled, moving towards him and crouching slightly so that when he reached her she could wrap her arms around him in a hug.

Eoghan looped his arms around her neck, pressing his face into her hair and hugging her tightly. She was shaking, he realized. Her arms were wrapped around him, hugging him tighter and holding him closer than was strictly necessary. "Rois?" he whispered, pulling back so he could look at her face. He winced when he saw the bruises, lightly tracing his hand over the marks he asked, "Rois, are you alright?"

She nodded, but her eyes were glassy and watery and her lips were pressed tightly together. "Don' worry, Eoghan, it's a'right. Youse a'ight, right? You like it 'ere?" her voice determined, but sad. She sounded beaten.

Eoghan nodded, observing the dark circles under her eyes, "But what about ye?"

The older girl took a deep breath and smiled as convincingly as she could. She squeezed him in her hug for a moment before saying, "I'll be fine."

He knew she wasn't okay. He knew that for a fact, but he knew she'd never admit that. Especially to him. He wanted to protect her. She was his sister, he loved her. She deserved more than their crap hand in life. But she'd taken it upon herself to protect him.

He still thought she needed someone to protect her, no matter how many times she denied it.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: OHMYGOSH GUYS! I'm so sorry! I've been filling out college apps and things for teachers so they write me letter of recommendation and doing scholarship essays and it's been a lot. Sorry I haven't updated, but thank you all for your reviews! You're all so amazing and I appreciate it so much that you're still sticking by this story despite my absolutely horrendous updating schedule, or rather, lack thereof.**

 **CallMeWonder:** Cute username! Eoghan's name is pronounced like 'Owen', its how the Irish spell it- those crazy folk. I'm glad you think so highly of Rois! I've been trying to make her strong, but not... unrealistic, ya know? She's a tough girl, scrappy fighter, and smart, but she;d not infallible. Spot... well, he is a bit of a dick, but he'll redeem himself. He doesn't want to get involved with the fights cause he doesn't want t bring all that trouble down on his newsies- He's the their leader after all, but he'll find a way to help her out. That is, if she'll let him.

 **Anna W:** Thanks for the positive feedback, I hope you keep reading!

 **Joker is Poker with a J** : Thanks again for updating, you are truly amazing. You'll see more of Rois, don't worry! And I'm glad you liked Bait, he's a favorite of mine too. He's a real sweetheart.

 **Jean-Moddalle:** Thanks for reviewing again! I'm glad you're enjoying the story!

 **Guest:** Sorry, you didn't leave your name! Thanks for the review- I love their sibling bond, it makes writing them so much fun.

* * *

 _~He still thought she needed someone to protect her, no matter how many times she denied it.~_

Spot watched the siblings as they reunited. He stood with his hands on his hips and a smirk on his face. He could honestly say he was glad Rois had found her way here. However, the way she had been walking, hunched over and slow, almost limping, it had been obvious she was in pain. Bruises littered her arms and poked out from the collar of her off-white button-up. The entire right side of her face had been off-colored, faded purple and blue, but healing nicely.

He had the feeling not all of those bruises were from the ring. A deep frown carved its way onto his face at the thought.

Rois eventually stood, her brother staying close to her side. The boy was standing taller than he had since he'd arrived. Having his sister there seemed to give the young boy a sense of purpose. He wanted to protect her. It was a sweet notion, but a naive one, in Spot's opinion.

Red came to stand beside the Brooklyn leader as she began speaking to Pick. "That 'er? The ring fighta'?"

Spot nodded, his eyes still locked on her.

"She looks like she got soaked purdy good," Red observed, head cocking slightly to the side as he spoke, looking more curious than sympathetic.

Spot didn't offer much in response, simply glancing at his second before looking back to the girl in question. Her movements were stiff and deliberate, she was sore and in pain, but she hid it well enough that most wouldn't notice.

"She goin' back?" Red continued. "To the fights… Youse said she was in some trouble dere. We just gonna let 'er go back?"

"We'll see," Spot answered cryptically striding towards the girl in question with a confidence only the King of Brooklyn could possess. He stopped beside her, standing closer than was necessary so their arms brushed against one another. She jumped slightly at the sudden contact, but did not back away, instead glancing up at him with wide eyes. Spot spared her a small upward quirk of the lips that may have counted as a smile before he looked down at the brown haired boy. "I told ya she'd be fine."

Eoghan paused, looking up at the bruises littering her skin. "Yeah," the boy said distractedly.

Rois ruffled his hair, white teeth peeking out between pink lips, "Spot says yer a purdy good newsie, little brudda."

The younger boy grinned almost shyly glancing once up into Spot's cool blue eyes, seeing the spark of amusement and the older boy's smirk before turning to beam up at his sister. She was smiling now, widely and proudly her eyes bright. "I'm a'ight."

She shook her head at his modesty. "I'll bet."

"'Ey, kid," Spot said, "Whadaya say we take ya sista' ta lunch wit us?"

Rois's eyes widened in shock as Spot glanced at her, his smirk growing as he took in her wide-eyed rosy cheeked expression. Despite the discoloration of her skin and dirt clinging to her she was pretty and the surprised smile lit up her face.

"Yeah!" Eoghan grinned, gripping his sister's left hand as he smiled widely. "Can ya come, Rois?"

She looked at Spot as she answered, her swirling green eyes met his blue and she answered with a smile wondering why she couldn't have met this wonderfully strange and perhaps slightly intimidating newsboy before.

"I'd love ta."


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N:** Hey guys! How's your summer going? Disney's Newsies, the broadway version is playing in theaters for some reason and I'm totally going- draggina friend along too. Anyone else?

Lemme know what you think of the chapter- There's lots more to come!

In response to my lovely reviewers... (ily!)

 **CallmeWonder:** Here's to lunch! Spot is a sweetie- he just doesn't show it. There's some more Rois in this chapter, and a lot more to come. Lemme know what you think! I love reading your reviews.

 **Bea.t11:** I'm glad you liked it! Lemme know if you still like where I'm taking it.

 **Guest:** Yeah, sorry my chapters are short. But there's lots more to come so bear with me!

 **Jean-Moddalle:** Thanks for the feedback mon ami! I love that you comment on every chapter, makes me happy. Lemme know what you think of this one!

* * *

 _~"I'd_ _love ta."~_

Spot grinned winningly, eyes shining with victory as he offered a gentlemanly arm. Shaking her head with a small honest laugh she took it, with a smile.

* * *

The Brooklyn newsies crowded around the three booths in the back of their usual diner. It was a small place, a little bit old and broken, but clean and the food was good and the prices cheap. They paused, lopsided and suggestive smirks overtaking their faces as they took in the girl on his arm. She was a pretty one, and they picked up on that right away. Her waist was small, accentuated by the cinching of her raggedy brown skirt. The button-down she wore was buttoned modestly, but the curve of her breasts was clearly visible. Her features were decidedly feminine, her cheekbones prominent, and her lips pink. Despite her wavy mess of short, choppy brown hair, she was attractive. The bruises littering her lightly tanned skin only served to prove she was tough enough to take a few hits. And Brooklyn boys liked tough girls.

She allowed Spot to lead her into the diner and over to his newsies. She smiled nervously as they approached the band of newsies. Her brother stood in front of her with as stern an expression as he could manage. Spot smirked at the boy's familiar scowl.

"Boys," he said, moving his arm around her shoulders. "Wese got us a new friend. Dis 'ere's Rois. She's our newbie's olda' sista'." The intent of that statement was clear, she was not to be messed with.

"I'm Red," Spot's second introduced himself with a friendly smile and an outstretched hand.

"Pleasha'," she said with that endearing slightly lopsided smile of hers and an irish lilt to her words. She shook his hand with her own.

Red grinned knowingly at his leader as the other boys began introducing themselves. Spot rolled his eyes at his friend and instead listened as Sinker, Pick, Yo-Yo, Czech, and Frenchy introduced themselves. She smiled pleasantly at each, blushing slightly when Bullet lightly flirted, bringing her knuckles to his lips with an exaggerated wink. "Ya purfectly beautiful Rois, da pleasa's all mine."

She laughed, looking mildly uncomfortable with the attention. "Uh, tanks, I guess…"

Eoghan glared icily at Bullet, his arms crossed over his chest. The other boys held back laughter, nudging each other and smirking at the young boys protectiveness. Rois noticed as well. She subtly nudged her younger brother with her arm, before smiling at the others. Then, she turned to her brother and asked if he'd mind introducing her to his friends.

As she moved to the next booth where the youngest newsies ate, the older boys took the chance to ask Spot about the girl.

"She why we got the Pip-squeak?" A bulky boy, named for his terrible eyesight and dubbed Specs asked with a note of amusement.

In some circles it was said, Spot Conlon was a womanizer, that he could get any girl he wanted. Some said a girl walked by and his hand was already half-way down her shirt. Some said he had bedded more than a few girls from the upper crust. That he could charm his way into any woman's silken sheets. Some said he was more likely to take one of the girls on the street to bed as they knew how tough life could be. This was the view more than a few of the Brooklyn boys promoted. Having such a promiscuous leader made them seem that way themselves. It was an image many of them embraced.

However, as handsome as Spot was, and he knew he was attractive, the truth was, Spot wasn't any of these things. Because Spot Conlon didn't have the time for a girl. He was the King of Brooklyn. A fearless leader, a full-time newsie, and leader of the toughest borough in all of New York. It was no small task. He didn't have time for some half-brained love-sick skirt hanging off of him every hour of the day. He didn't have time for a soft girl with plush lips and a delicate figure. Or a girl who thought he'd protect her. He wasn't the type 'tough' girls usually fell for. He wasn't like Mush or Skittery or Rickety whose gentle nature had those girls thinking they were lovable after all. He got along with those girls, he understood them. He came from a similar place and they all faced similar hardships living on the streets of New York. But he wasn't one for comfort. He wasn't happy-go-lucky, with an affectionate soft-side, no matter what the girls wanted to believe.

He wasn't one to pay for his pleasure either. Money was too precious to waste on frivolities like that. He was a teenage boy, but he had more than half a brain.

And he wasn't on to go around breaking hearts. A girl his speed would never let her heart be broken in the first place. But Rois was fresh meat- a tough girl with a pretty face and a brain. There were bound to be rumors. But Spot wouldn't instigate them. He was better than that.

"Not like youse is thinkin'," Spot said ice blue eyes boring into Specs. "She could be an asset."

"What do you mean?" Pick asked never one for beating around the bush.

"She's Brooklyn material's what he's sayin'," Red supplied. "Da goil can fight like ya wouldn't believe."


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N:** Okay! Another chapter! How's everybody doing? I'd just like to thank everybody for the support and let you guys know I have a whole lot written out for this story- so it's not ending anytime soon, even if my updates are really spaced out. Thanks again, you all!

And to my lovely reviewers, always makin' my day...

 **Guest:** Leave a name so I can talk to ya friend! Thanks for the support, I'm glad you like it. At this point into the story we'll be getting into some of Rois's bigger flaws, personality traits that are just bound to cause her trouble and she'd not always going to make the right decision. So stick around!

 **CallMeWonder:** You read my mind fam! Thanks for sticking around! ily! I am also not so sure how good i am at depicting the male mind... but i try. Not sure what else I can do cause I feel spots pov is very important in this story.

 **Jean-Moddalle:** I suppose Frenchy is sort of the Brooklyn Dutchy... he's not gonna have a very big role however, just a background newsie. Eoghan's comin'! He'll be a little in and out of the story since he's kind of learning to be a bit more independent since becoming a newsie. He's not always going to be looking to Rois. He's growin up a bit.

 **QueenofSilver:** Your review made my day dude. I'm so glad you like my characterization of Spot! I was a teensey bit worried i might have some people be a little angry with the fact im not going to make him some teddy-bear with a suit of armor. He's the son of immigrants, now and orphan, raised on the streets of Brooklyn, who became a newsie and fought his way to the to of the scariest borough in NewYork. He's been through some hard times and I don't see how he could go from having no one to being so soft and lovey over one girl. He's gotta get to know her first... see her for her, and have her see him too.

Anyway... Keep reviewing guys!

* * *

 _~"She's Brooklyn material's what he's sayin'," Red supplied. "Da goil can fight like ya wouldn't believe."~_

"'Brooklyn material'," Digger, a particularly foul-minded newsie mocked. "She's a goil. Ain't no girl Brooklyn material. They's too soft… 'sides, lookit her! She actin' too soft an' shy ta be a Brooklynite. Nah, she ain't got da stones ta make it in Brooklyn- ship 'er ta Manhattan!" Digger crossed his arms with a satisfied smirk, he'd thought he'd won. Spot had only raised an eyebrow, wondering if Digger really was dim enough to think that.

Pick shook his head, "Digger, she's not a delicate little flower. Did you even see those bruises? I say the girl's got some fight in her. And she sure as hell isn't shy. You see her talking to those kids over there? They love her already. No, you ask me, I say she was sizing us up, seeing how big of a threat we pose."

"Well, she's a purdy little thang no matta' what, sos I say we keep 'er," Bullet laughed.

Red snorted, "I'd keep off 'er, if I was you, Bullet. Dat little brudda a' hers didn't look too impressed by you."

Bullet only scoffed, "Dat pip-squeak wouldn't do nutin'."

A small smirk grew on Spot's lips, "I wouldn't be so sure about dat, Bullet. Da kid's tougher than 'e looks."

"Hey, Spot!" Legs called from the other booth. He was smiling widely, his boyish face alight as he called to the older boy.

"Legs, you don't-" Her voice was amused, and happy, but almost embarrassed. Spot was intrigued.

"Spot!" Legs called again with a lopsided grin.

"What?" Spot asked, his gold-tipped cane over his shoulder as he sauntered towards the younger boys.

"Youse think dat Rois could come visit more? She says she likes us. Wese could pay fer 'er food an' everythin', Spot, youse wouldn't havta do a thang. 'Sides she's Eoghan's sista and sos we'se gots ta help 'er out, Spot- Wese-"

Spot cut the younger boy off, a smirk playing across his lips as his eyes shifted over to watch the girl in question. She was blushing. Her head was bowed forward, hidden slightly behind one pale bruised hand whose knuckles were bandaged loosely. Her lips were curled upward into a small embarrassed smile as her swirling mess of hazel eyes met his depthless blue ones. "She's welcome anytime," he said.

She shifted her weight, brushing her hair back from her face to meet his gaze. "I can pay fer me- um, ma own food." Her tripping over words only served to make her seem more interesting. "Ya don' 'avta pay fer me."

He smirked, "We'll see Goilie, we'll see."

She rolled her eyes at that, scoffing at his use of the word 'girlie'. "I won't let ye pay fer me. Ye don' even know me. Not really." It wasn't a lie- he didn't know. The sad truth of it was, even if he didn't, he still had a better idea of who she was than anyone else in her life, and she knew she was getting a bit too comfortable with it.

"I knows ya betta' than youse think," he said cryptically with that damnable smirk still stuck on his handsome features. And he was handsome, with tanned skin and electric blue eyes. He wasn't tall, just shy of average height, she thought, but he was no less intimidating. In fact, he was more so, with an air of confidence, borderline arrogance, and a sense of authority that other boys had no hope of rivaling. He was thin, as were most who lived on the streets, and he had a slimmer build. He didn't have the broad shoulders or large chest that some had, but he had an edge they didn't. His smaller stature made him faster, more fluid, and he was by no means weak. He was toned, with a layer of muscle hard beneath his skin that rippled with every move. And Spot was smart, smarter than most gave him credit for. And he knew it too. His lips -thin, but shaped perfectly for his sculpted cheekbones and jawline- would curve into a familiar smirk and he'd look at you with those electric blue eyes and it was like he was seeing right through you.

She only shook her head in response, rolling her eyes as she did. When she did she caught sight of the clock on the wall. She realized with a start that it was almost two o'clock. "I- I've gotta go."

Spot only raised an eyebrow.

"It-" she paused, fidgeting with her skirt and shifting her weight uncomfortably. "I just gotta."

He nodded, but Eoghan didn't. "Ye just got 'ere!"

She seemed to deflate with those words. She looked sad for a moment, but it was quickly masked with a small flash of a confident smile, "An' I'll be back tomorrow."

The boy frowned severely, but otherwise, didn't say a word.

She bit her lip for a moment before asking him to follow her. The boy did as she asked, but there was obvious tension between the two. Not a single newsie in the Brooklyn diner wanted to get between the siblings.

Spot watched her as she led the boy outside with her head held high and a determination in her walk despite the slight limp. It was the walk of someone who knew how to survive, who knew you had to work to live. She rolled her eyes when her little brother insisted he open the door for her, but she allowed him to anyway.

From inside the diner the argument didn't look like much. Most newsies were uninterested, they didn't even bat an eye at the squabbling siblings. But Spot kept an eye on them.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N:** Hey all! School is about to start up again... sadly. I have a few more updates lined up for you all thought, so keep your eyes pealed for updates! I love you all! thanks for sticking by me. Lemme know what you think. Nothing motivates me more than reading your reviews. How was everybody's summer?

To my faithful reviewers... Thanks again everybody!

 **Jean-Moddalle:** Good to know you're still with me :) Yeah, Rois and Eoghan are very loyal to one another but, like every pair of siblings, are prone to fighting. They love one another, but that doesn't mean they're not going to fight.

 **CallmeWonder:** I cannot tell you how much I look forward to your reviews! Thanks for sticking around. And you are quite correct- most of the people she was fighting had no clue she was a girl. Some did, but it didn't matter, they were in it for the chance to beat someone up, they didn't care who. That's going to change with the newsies- they're a gallant bunch, even if they're foul-mouthed and dirty little boys. They have no idea what she can do. No yet at least. ;)

 **Bea.t11:** More chapters are a-comin, don't you worry!

 **Guest71:** I'm glad you like my portrayal of Spot! Anything in particular you think is really working? And I'm glad Rois is growing on you. Her best moments aren't really coming up any time soon... she'd got to find her way in this newsie-crowd and ditch the two guys from earlier.

 **Guest:** Glad you liked it! Lemme know what you think of this shot. You like where the characters are going? Any favorite?

Thanks for the reviews guys keep it up!

* * *

 _~But Spot kept an eye on them.~_

So he noticed when her body tensed and her fists clenched, the muscles in her arms jumping. She looked royally pissed, as did the boy she was glaring at. Curious, for no real reason, Spot decided that for once, he'd dive in head first. No forewarning, he'd just interrupt, stop their argument in its tracks.

The door chimed as he strode out, casting an amused look at Rois when she spun around to face him. She exhaled, her body relaxing, her fists unclenching, her shoulders slumping slightly. "Spot," she said in acknowledgement.

"Tell 'er she's gotta stay!" Eoghan burst out, any anger in his eyes giving way to a sad sort of desperation while he looked up at Spot with wide honest eyes. "Tell 'er she can't go back dere! Tell 'er she can't fight no more!"

Her jaw clenched, her eyes hardening, narrowing on the little brother who'd jumped in front of her.

Spot looked between the siblings, and made his choice. "Go back inside, kid, I need ta talk to yer sista'."

Eoghan looked like he was going to protest, but with a hard looked from Spot and a nudge forward from his sister, he went through the diner door, only looking back once.

"Well?" she asked, laying a hand on her hip and looking at him with raised eyebrows.

"He's gotta point, ya know dat."

"I knowse it," she said and Spot was struck against by her brooklyn-irish-hybrid brogue. The "I" came out as "oi" but "know" came out with that extra "se" common in this part of new york.

"So den what's yer malfunction girlie? Why ain't ya runnin' from dat ring?" He asked, arms crossed, his blue eyes searching hers. "I knowse dat you ain't enjoyin' dose fights. So why do ya stay?"

Her eyes had slid from his to the ground, her weight shifting from side to side, she was obviously uncomfortable. She took a deep breath, opening her mouth to speak but she never did. A pink tongue poked out and wet her lips, but she lost her words again. Her fingertips drummed against her thigh nervously, and then they suddenly clenched into a fist, as her spine straightened and she lifted her head, eyes rising to meet his gaze. "I can't leave… well, I couldn't… now- Now I- I…" she trailed off, her voice becoming shaky and nervous as her greenish eyes slid from his. She seemed almost… ashamed.

Scared. She was scared. She was ashamed of the fear. She was ashamed of the weakness. But only fools ignored fear. Fear kept you from being stupid. Fear told you when to be careful.

Fear was telling her to be cautious.

"I… I really do… need ta get back…" she whispered.

Spot nodded, still observing her movements with sharp eyes. "I'll walk ya."

Her green eyes widened fractionally, arms falling to her sides, flustered and going slightly red in the cheeks. "Oh, no," she said, "You don' 'avta do dat… I- I'll be fine."

He raised one eyebrow in an unimpressed manner. "Get goin' Dollface, ya ain't goin' by yourself." He smirked, "Brooklyn's dangerous, haven't you heard?" He was only partly talking about the city.

Her wide-eyes look suddenly disappeared and her eyes narrowed as her lips curled upwards. Looking over at him and letting out a small, breathy laugh, she shook her head. "How long've you been waitin ta use dat one?" She inquired with a lopsided grin.

He shrugged, feeling oddly at ease with this girl. "Not as long as ya think, I'm shuah."


	13. Chapter 13

_**A/N:** Alrighty babes... school is a lot, bit I love writing and I love you all so here's a bit of a longer chapter with a peak into Rois's life._

 _To my lovely faithful fantastic reviewers..._

 **Guest:** _Please leave a name so I can properly address you! I don't just wanna call you guest! But I'm so glad you like Rois so much! I'm really trying to make her seem like a person and not some all-knowing perfect Mary sue who happens to steal Spot's heart. Lemme know what you think of this chapter._

 **Jean Moddalle:** _Short and sweet as always my friend, thanks for your constant reviews, it means a lot! Lemme know what you think!_

 **CallMeWonder:** _Even Indiana Jones is afraid of snakes Lol! But yeah, Rois is afraid, but she's also really really stubborn... and prideful... so she'd not gonna let a little something like fear stop her, even if she doesn't really want Spot knowing all her business. At least not yet ;) Lol, lemme know what youre thinking when you read this chapter._

 **Bea.t11:** _You are right my friend, action is a'comin', just hold on! I'm glad you like Spot and Rois conversations and interactions, they're my favorite thing to write right now :) Lemme know what you think of this chapter!_

 **Guest** _: Please leave a name of some sort so I can properly address you! I'm glad you like my portrayal of Spot and my other characters! Thanks for commenting. I got your review and saw the ask for an update... and thought, well, i got some time to edit... So here it is! Lemme know what you think!_

* * *

 _~"Not as long as ya think, I'm shuah."~_

They walked shoulder to shoulder, arms brushing gently every once in awhile. It was fairly obvious that Spot was waiting for her to tell him what was wrong, but Rois couldn't bring herself to do it. She knew the boy was trustworthy, he must be. He took care of her brother for her, for god's sake! But it was strange to her, this interest he'd shown. She was wary, perhaps too much, but it wasn't without reason. She told herself she didn't have to tell him, that she didn't owe him that, didn't owe him anything. But that was a flat out lie and she knew it.

She owed him more than he'd ever know. For more than just taking in Eoghan, for keeping him safe.

She sighed, stopping in her tracks. Her eyes were cast towards the ground as her arms came up to wrap around herself nervously. When she looked up the first thing she saw were that newboy's piercing blue eyes sparkling with slight amusement. His lips were drawn into a knowing smirk, as if saying, 'About time'. While finding the curl of his lips quite interesting and weirdly attractive the cockiness behind the movement irked her. Her eyebrows furrowed in annoyance, a frown making itself known on her face.

Spot only raised an eyebrow at her pissy expression, his arms crossing over his chest.

She shook her head, huffing out an annoyed breath before moving to stalk past him. Spot, however, was not about to let this strange girl out of his sight and caught her around the waist with his left arm, pulling her backwards into him and trapping her there with his right. The movement, however pressed into bruised ribs. She made a small sound of pain, her eyes squeezing shut as her hands came to clutch at his forearm, trying to push it off her. Her nails dug into his arm as her legs gave out underneath of her.

"Rois?" he asked, his voice tight and sharp, sounding almost angry despite the slight worry he felt for the girl. She took a deep breath, standing up once more before using what strength remained to shove him away, but he held tight to her arm, refusing to be sidelined when she was so obviously suffering. "Rois, calm down, yer hurt."

"If I don't get back now Ise only gonna get hurts worse," she snarled, fingernails digging into his arm and eyes gleaming with anger. "Ise gotta get back," she repeated.

"Why?" He questioned, keeping his grip but helping her to stand on her own. "What do youse owe them, huh? Why you gotta go back dere?"

She only shook her head in response pulling weakly at her arm. "Lemme go, Spot."

"What's da problem, Rois?"

She was shaking her head now, her eyes downcast and sad. She looked distressed, scared and confused unsure of what to do.

"Lemme help ya, Rois," he said softly, finding he surprisingly wanted just that, help her. He wasn't worried about the profit. "You can't do everything by yerself, Doll." Spot was standing in front of her now, one hand coming to lift up her chin. "Lemme help ya, you and yer brudda. He needs ya, Rois." His voice was soft and low comforting in a way most thought he never could be.

She didn't tear her face away as he tilted her head up by the chin to meet his eyes, in fact, she was almost completely still. Her eyes were still downcast, purposely avoiding his. "Rois," he repeated. Sighing in response, she finally met his eyes.

"Okay," she said, "But it won't make no difference. Ise still gotta go back." Spot didn't respond to that, only took her bruised-knuckled hand and lead her to a nearby bench where they could talk more comfortably. She let him.

Once sitting she took a deep breath and began looking downward at the filth covered stony walkways of Brooklyn instead of the boy beside her. "Me maw died during da crossing… Eoghan don't rememba, 'e was too little," she said never meeting his eyes. Spot found the irish brogue was still peeking through, making 'little' sound a bit more like 'leetle'. It was a quirk he found endearing.

"But I can rememba her just fine… and me pa didn't know what ta do without her. Couldn't do da job 'e came o'er to do an' wit'out it 'e couldn't take care of us real well- didn' know what ta do with us. And after Ma died… well, 'e was too busy drinking ta do much else. 'Nd no one wants ta hire some 'Fumblin' Dublin'," Spot noticed she'd began wrapping and rewrapping her bandaged hands as she spoke. He knew how hard it was for immigrants, he saw them everyday, watched them as they were kicked around, yelled at, insulted, thrown into the streets. He'd seen the 'Irish need not apply' signs. "That's what dey called 'im- so 'e started fightin' instead. Was easy for 'im. He was angry… but uh, 'e didn' have no money ta enter, see," she took a breath here, pausing to let go of her bandages and smooth out her dress instead. "So Rich an' Walt, they paid fer 'im… collected 'is winnin's… took all we 'ad. 'nd den da cops caught 'im fightin'... 'e charged at one of 'em. 'e's in jail now," she said, her voice detached and emotionless. "We didn' 'ave nowherese ta go, had ta stay… 'nd now 'is debts are on me… and I- Ise always pays me debts," she finished strongly, her head held higher than before and shoulders squarer


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N:** Hey all! Sorry for the wait- College apps are a killer!

 _To my reviewers and new members of the gang! Thanks for following/favoriting!_

 _Guest1: You're so cute! thanks for the kudos! Lemme know what you think of this chapter :)_

 _Hakunaaaa Matataaaa: Love your username, lol. And I have been there done that, babe, lemme tell you! Sorry for the wait, but here's a new chapter! I'm a superduper slow updater, so I apologize for that, but know i am still working on the story and its not ending anytime soon. Lemme know what you think._

 _Guesta new one: Ohmygosh thank you so much! I love writing the interactions between Spot and Rois, and of course, they're the focus of the story so... keep reviewing!_

 _Bea.t11: Thanks for your review! They always make me smile! I wanted Rois to be a little complex and a bit of a mystery at first. she's got some walls that need tearing down, but so does Spot, if they're gonna get anywhere with each other._

 _BecomingFearless1F: I love Spot too, in case you couldn't tell, lol! Anyways, lemme know what you think of this chapter._

CallMeWonder: Yeah, the ending was supposed to have a period, when I copied from my docs I guess I didn't pick it up. Rois is really stubborn and she's extremely loyal, so she's not one to let go of things. she's strong and tough, but she's also kinda scared of Walt and Rich.

Guest: You go, dude! I gotchu! Lol, thanks for the review, means a lot. Lemme know what you think of this chapter.

Jean-Moddalle: Rois is too proud for her own good, you hit the nail on the head- and its gonna get her in big trouble.

AnnabethGranger123: 10 points to gryffindor for the username, lol! thanks for the review!

* * *

 _"'And I- Ise always pays me debts,' she finished strongly, her head held higher than before and shoulders squarer."_

"And if those debts get ya killed?" Spot asked, his face giving nothing away as she turned to look at him. "Then what, hmm?"

She said nothing in response, simply studied the hard edges of his face, the way his lips pressed into a thin line and his blue eyes bore into her, seeming darker and more serious, that sparkle of youth and laughter nowhere to be seen as he stared her down. "Den I am goin' down fightin'," she responded harshly, sounding more irish than he'd yet heard.

"An' what about yer brudda, huh?" he asked, suddenly angry with her.

"'E's not 'elpless," she protested, shaking his hand off her arm.

"Naw, but he's damned determined to take care 'a ya," he told her angrily.

"'E knows 'e don' 'ave ta do dat. I can take care of meself." Her green eyes were alight with anger, as she got to her feet, wincing briefly when her bruised ribs protested.

Spot took notice. "Yeah? An how's ya gonna do dat with busted ribs, huh? Youse already beat to hell and youse wanna go back? Ya got a deathwish or somethin'? Huh?"

Her jaw clamped shut as she shook her head minutely. Her fists were clenched, muscles jumping in her arms. With a short exhale of disgusted breath she turned on her heels and began to stalk away from him.

Annoyed, he reached out and snatched her wrist, pulling her backward and knocking her off balance so that she tripped, stumbling into his chest. There was a fire in her eyes as she straightened herself, muscles clenching in anger, as she planted her free hand firmly on his chest to push him away. He rolled his eyes, grabbing that wrist in his other hand. She thrashed a little bit, yanking at her wrists, hissing at him to let her go, but it was more than obvious she wasn't going to fight him. Her face flickered with pain, the sharp motions straining barely healed injuries. "Ya done?" Spot asked blandly, one eyebrow raised.

She tugged at her wrist once before before glaring up at him, "Why do ya care anyways?"

"I take care 'a me newsies," Was his only reply. His crystalline blue eyes dug deeply into her swirling mess of green and brown, stopping her movement. She blinked up at him, her lips slightly parted, unsure of what to say. Her mind was reeling. She didn't know what to do with someone like him, someone who cared, who wouldn't let her risk everything. "'N I know a few little boys who'd be pretty disappointed if ya didn' come back."

"I'll come back," she said quietly, but determinedly. Spot felt the way her body relaxed, her muscles loosening, her wrists no longer resisting his grip. "I ain't leavin' fer good."

Spot said nothing, only raised an eyebrow.

"I promise," she said, slowly stepping backward. "I'm comin' back." Her hackles were lowered. She wasn't so defensive. She was being honest with him. She was letting him in, just a little bit.

"Yer gonna git yerself killed, Girlie," he said simply.

"I gotta git some stuff, Spot, I'll be in an' out, a'ight?" she said, "In an' out. A day or so and I'm back. I amn't goin' dere for a fight." Her eyes were wide and earnest. "I just… dere's a few things… me ma and pa's rings," she admitted. "I can't let 'em 'ave 'em. I can't." She tugged slightly on her wrists, almost begging him to understand, to let her go.

Reluctantly, the newsie King released her from his grasp. Her let her fair skin slip through his fingers, but never tore his eyes from hers. She was bound and determined to go back. He wasn't used to seeing that kind of determination in people, but it suited her in a way. It lit a flame behind eyes he'd never had a closer look at. Light shone through the emerald green in her eyes, deeply intertwined with a warm and natural brown and speckled with a sparkling golden hue that he couldn't seem to stop admiring.

A small, lopsided smile graced her slightly-suntanned features when she looked at him. "Don' worry so much Spot," she said, raising one hand to smooth the lines on his forehead.

He was taken aback for a moment, by both her touch and the way she said his name- all soft and breathless. One moment ago they'd been at eachother's throats and here she was smiling at him, touching him with gentle care. He didn't know what he'd been expecting when he'd let her go, but he certainly hadn't been expecting her to touch him, to smooth out the worry lines arising in his forehead. Her touch was warm and soft, light and comforting there and then gone, like a butterfly's kiss.

"I'll be back," she smirked, turning away and strutting as well as was possible with a slight gimp down the street.

Something sank in his chest as he watched her walk away. He had the distinct feeling she would not be returning, no matter what she said. He shook his head, taking off his cap and running a hand through his matted hair before turning on his heel and walking back to his boys. She wasn't his problem after all, why should he care?

"Oi', Spot!" she called from a ways down the street.

He turned at the sound of his name to see she had turned back to face him. "Tell my brudda Ise'll see him soon.


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N:** Hey everybody! Sorry I kinda dropped off the face of the planet there for a while, but I'm back with a chapter and a few in progress! Its the Holiday Season and I'm back and ready for action! Lol, I guess I'm just enjoying the snow for as long as I can 'fore I have to go out driving and going to a million and two christmas parties. How is everybody?

 _To my amazing and faithful followers and wondrously patient reviewers..._

Jean-Moddalle: You got me! Things are gonna go a bit south for her... lemme know what you think of the next few chapters, things are gonna pick up a bit.

CallMeWonder: thanks for the review, as always. I'm feeling a little like death, waiting for all me acceptances/rejections to come in, but... well, hopefully it'll be worth it in the end, right? I'm glad you liked the dialogue so much! Withe everything that goes on in their lives and all the hardships they're facing I really want Spot and Rois to have a solid foundation, they need to trust each other before they can really open up... you can't have a real relationship with someone you don't trust, i don't think, so its important they have that. I want them to be honest with each other, but don't worry too much, Rois'll be back real soon.

Hakunaaa Matataaaa: Hahaha, Thanks! I'm so so so so happy you like Rois so much! She's not in this chapter, but she'll be back real soon, don't worry!

Guest: Thanks so much! Lemme know what you think of this chapter!

Guest 2: Aw! i'm glad you like my story so much! Good question! i'm not going to tell you, just cause that's actually going to be addressed really really soon... as in the next chapter, so just bear with me please! lemme know what you think of this chapter! I love hearing from you.

hch428: Thanks so much! I love that you love my story! I'm really trying to build a foundation of trust between Spot and Rois before anything else, because i feel that's important, especially for such guarded and independent characters. i try really hard on the dialogue so im glad to know its paying off. And i really think spot it portrayed way too much as reckless. Someone so reckless, i think, wouldn't be able to led such a 'dangerous' and large borough of newsies, especially with as small and young as he apparently was when he became their leader. no. I think hes more calculating, smart, a little cold and harsh, but not necessarily cruel.

She didn't show up for lunch the next day, or the day after that. Or even the next day.

Eoghan was worried. Spot was mad.

The boy had been angry at first, cursing the older newsie for letting her leave in the first place. If he hadn't let her go back she wouldn't be lost. She'd be here. Safe. And dammit all, he missed her. He'd never admit it because he was tough, because newsies were tough and Brooklyn newsies were the toughest of them all. Being tough meant not being vulnerable, it meant not having weakness. As much as he loved her, Eoghan knew his big sister was his weakness.

He wondered if Spot had one, or if he was really as cold and indifferent as he seemed.

And then he'd think again, because Spot wasn't cold or indifferent, not really. Rois would say "it's just how he's painted". It was plainly obvious that Spot cared deeply for his borough, for his newsies. He took care of them like no one ever had. He was their protector, their leader, their king. He was the closest thing to a Father that some, like Legs, had ever had.

And yet he seemed not to care that Rois was gone. He shrugged off Eoghan's concern that she was in trouble. "She left," was all the blonde newsie had to say. He said it like it was her fault, that she'd asked for whatever had happened, if something had indeed happened.

It'd been four days since he'd last seen her. Four days. Eoghan wasn't used to not seeing his sister everyday. These last few weeks had been the most time he's ever spent away from her watchful and worried gaze. It was strange for him. Different. Almost scary. As much as he'd thought he'd like to be alone sometimes, he didn't think he liked it. He'd always been independent, but she's always checked in on him, kept an eye on him. But she wasn't there. Every day, he expected her to wake him up with a crooked grin and quiet laughter, but she wasn't there. He expected her slim fingered, bruised knuckled hand to reach out and tug him back whenever he wandered too far off but she wasn't there either. He was prepared for her to snap at him every time he made a smart-ass reply, but she never did because she wasn't there either. She wasn't sneaking him food out of her pocket or nudging him into passers-by. She wasn't teasing him or ruffling his hair. She couldn't, she was gone.

Despite their arguments and the times when all Eoghan wanted was for her to leave him alone, he wanted her back. He needed her back. She was his family after all. His only family. "We're all we've got left," she used to say before kissing his forehead or nudging him affectionately. There was always a sad sparkle in her eye when she said that, the kind she always got when he asked about their parents. Family was important to her, to him.

She wouldn't just leave.

That wasn't her style.


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N:** This is pretty much a continuation of chapter 15. I split it up because I wanted to give a **trigger warning. There are mentions and suggestions of rape and abuse in this chapter.**

* * *

Despite the show Spot put on, he had been looking into where Rois had gone. His birdies had reported no signs of her in or around the fights, though her 'handlers' had been there quite often and were seen to be raking in the dough.

He could begrudgingly admit to himself he was a bit concerned about the girl. She seemed to have just up and disappeared. It wasn't until Eoghan also vanished that Spot pushed the issue further.

The young newsboy was a tough one, determined and strong, like his sister. But he was still young- small, inexperienced and vulnerable. He was an easy target on the streets this late at night. Still, he wanted to see exactly what this kid was made out of. How far would he go for family?

Spot left Red in charge of the lodging house as he himself went after Brooklyn's newest recruit.

It was obvious the boy had gone after his sister, but Spot hadn't a good idea as to where they had stayed prior to Eoghan's recruitment. The boy did though, and he didn't hesitate. Following Eoghan, Spot was feeling confident. And strangely proud of the immigrant boy. He moved quickly and quietly, with a purpose. He was on a mission but he did not let his drive distract him from being observant. Spot had to put a bit of effort into his concealment. Eoghan was street smart, looked both ways and behind his back, always keeping an eye out. He was cautious and deliberate in his movements. Spot had to wonder to what degree Rois had taught him and what he had simply picked up on his own.

The boy turned down a particularly wet alley where the drainage system did not seem to work properly. There were no windows and the walls were of brick, still slick with rainwater. Eoghan climbed atop a pile of wooden crates, some of which looked to be rotting away and grabbed hold of the fire escape, pulling the ladder down with a loud _clang_. Eoghan winced at the sound, looking around sheepishly before he ascended. Spot followed behind, crouching behind the crates as Eoghan climbed to the top of that ladder. Spot followed as quietly as he was able, taking note when Eoghan stopped at the third floor, where the brick was discolored and deteriorated around a rotting window pane framing broken glass. The boy stripped off his horrid excuse for a jacket and laid it over the glass before climbing through the window. Spot followed, catching up to the boy who stood shrouded in the shadows in the far corner of the room, hiding from the approaching figure.

As he climbed through the window, Eoghan stepped out of the shadows. "Spot?" he asked, sounding confused.

Spot nodded, motioning for Eoghan to come closer.

"How did you-" Eoghan began but stopped mid-question, halted by the ferocity in Spot blue-eyed gaze.

"This was stupid and dangerous. Not only could ya have gotten yourself killed but your sister too. Coming alone." Spot shook his head. "You have a brain, pip-squeak. Use it." His voice was hard and his eyes burning.

Eoghan hunched under that gaze, his bright eyes clouding with guilt.

Spot exhaled and straightened his back. "But since we're here, we might as well get that sister a' yours."

Eoghan's whole being lit up. But he was given no time to speak.

There was a shriek from below followed by the laughter of men. Spot's eyes narrowed as the boy's widened in fear.

"T'at's dem. Rick and Walter."

"It's alright, kid," Spot said moving towards the door to the stair that led below. "I'll take care of 'em."

The two men Spot recognized sat among many others. Maybe twelve men total, all of whom were drunk off their asses. Three prostitutes in short dresses and worn-out stockings were spread among them. It was a poorly kept space with wooden floor soaked with piss-poor ale and various other mixtures. Kegs, barrels and crates were everywhere, some were being used as chairs. There was a singular couch of a mucky brown fabric and messy seams situated around a coffee-table that was missing a leg. The walls were lined with shelves, most likely meant for books, but they held nothing of real importance. Mostly beer bottles and various knick-knacks of no real value. Most were passed-out drunk, including one frizzy-haired prostitute draped over one man's lap, her head on another's shoulder. But a few were still drinking, talking and slurring their words together.

From what Spot could gather they were all ring fighters. Many of them looked familiar and judging by the bruising, scars, and bandages- they belonged in the ring.

The stairs continued down to the next floor but Spot was hesitant to continue, he wondered what information these men might have, what assets he stood to gain should he somehow overpower them. He wondered what items in the room were of most value. But Eoghan's breath came quickly and softly behind him, laced with equal measures of anger and fear.

The young one, lying sideways on what could possibly be classified as a chair, a fairly uninterested hooker on his lap, laughed and held up his drink, half of its contents spilling out as he did. "She's a feisty lil' thing, she is." He didn't seem to be referring to the woman on his lap. Spot recognized him as Rich.

He was wasted. Spot lightly pushed Eoghan behind him as he peaked out down around the corner of the stairway. There were five men in total- Rich and Walt, the one sucking on the black haired woman's face, and the two passing the bottle of jack between them. It was too many for him to overtake on his own.

"She's damaged goods!" another barked, almost tipping over the precarious balance of the barrel he used as a stool as he leaned forward to proclaim his opinion. "Ain't no fun once theyse is beat up like dat."

"She's young though, dat one is…. Young and thin…" Rich spoke, grinning widely as he leaned backward into the corner of the couch. Spot's hand clenched into a fist. "Bet she feels real good. Ain't she downstairs still?"


	17. Chapter 17

**_A/N: Sorry about the Cliff hanger guys! But here's another chapter for you lovely people. Merry Christmas Eve! and Happy Holidays everyone!_**

 _(I'll respond to your reviews next chapter!)_

* * *

 _~"...Ain't she downstairs still?"~_

"Its betta' when deyse is awake," the first one said after a moment's pondering. "Ise says wese gose and pays her a visit when she wakes up. Dat bitch 'as it comin…"

Walt laughed, his voice hoarse and cold, broken and slurred from a few too many smokes and a couple of bottles of what looked like whiskey. "Rosie's still gots ta pay 'er dues after all."

Rois. Of course, they were talking about Rois. It made his skin crawl, the way they talked about her. Their words, however, were actually helpful- she was downstairs. But how had this happened? And were there others? How had she even gotten to this point? What happened to 'in and out'? So many questions were running through Spot's head and he didn't have an answer to any of them. It was not a scenario he was familiar with. Spot Conlon was the one who always held the cards. He was always the one with an ace up his sleeve. He was supposed to know everything about what went on in this part of the city. He _was_ Brooklyn. But he didn't know about this and he didn't know about Rois and he didn't have any answers. And it was damn frustrating.

But Eoghan was fuming, his fists clenching and young face contorted with rage.

"Shh," Spot whispered lowly. The boy needed to calm down. Getting angry would do them no good. Not here. "Stay 'ere."

"What-"

"Shhh," Spot cut him off, moving silently across the darkened hall. Crouched down he could just reach the long neck of a glass bottle of whiskey lying still on the chipped wooden floor.

Spot, ever arrogant, but wary of his own limitations knew he could handle but one or two of the men in a fight. He'd love to fight, love to hurt them… but three would overwhelm him and there were five of them. And Rois was downstairs.

So he took the bottle as a distraction. The room the drunken men took place in connected to another, this one completely empty of everything aside from dust and wood fallen from boarded up windows and a few missing floorboards. The staircase stood between them. Sticking to the shadows in the unlit corner of the room, he darted back to the stairs and motioned for Eoghan to retreat back to the landing. The boy nodded obediently, though Spot could tell he wanted to do something else. His brown eyes were bright in the darkness.

Then, back to the men and hidden in the darkness of the stair, Spot threw the bottle as hard as he could against the far wall of the empty room and as the bottle smashed against the wall with a bang and shattered, falling to the ground in a series of almost musical 'clings', he retreated up the stairs.

"What the-"

"What was that?"

They'd heard the clatter and predictably, had gotten up to check.

Or… two of them had. Spot counted as they passed. Three of the them walked into the far room. Eoghan brushed against his arm as he neared.

Spot held his hand out, signalling to wait, wait, wait, as he watched where the men's focus lied. The two left in the room were busy, one almost passed out, and the other lip-locked to the dark haired prostitute- they wouldn't notice a thing. The three in the far room were focused on the escape ladder.

Now.

Grabbing Eoghan, Spot dragged him across the small hall and down the stairs, avoiding the unnecessary fight and useless violence. On this floor, there was little light. Spot and Eoghan could barely see one another, let alone anything else. The concrete floor was slightly wet and it was unsettlingly quiet. "We'se use ta get sent down 'ere when we were bad… when we were little," Eoghan whispered, sticking close to the older newsboy and constantly looking over his shoulder.

Spots insides clenched at that, the mistreatment of this boy. He didn't deserve that kind of abuse. No one did. But it seemed newsboys were always victims of some sort. Eoghan was not his only newsie with a history like that.

"Rois never let 'em separate us though," the boy's voice was thick with fear and worry. "She never left me alone. Never let 'em touch me."

It was all Spot could do to keep moving- otherwise he was sure he would've gone upstairs and killed every man there who dared lay a hand on a child. They stepped carefully, making little noise as they explored, bit by bit.

"Sometimes there'd be others… but they were never 'ere long. We- we made up that corner over there with blankets and stuff… made a bed." Eoghan pointed to the far corner of the rooms where something looked to be curled up in the darkness. "Rois?" Eoghan questioned, but there was no movement. "Rois?" He asked again, the fear in his voice escalating as his eyes widened and they neared what was obviously a body lying in the corner.

Eoghan shot forward from behind Spot and towards the figure, which did not move in the slightest. "Rois," he whispered again, his voice low and thick with emotion, he sounded close to tears.

Spot too, could see her now. It was indeed Rois, lying tucked in the corner of the wet and dirty old building, beaten and barely alive.

She was sprawled on a poorly patched together blanket, her chest rising and falling slowly. She looked utterly beaten. Her face was bruised everywhere, her nose was perhaps broken, though it had stopped bleeding- the blood around her nose and lips was dried and cracking. Her left eye was purple and swollen to the point Spot wasn't sure she could see out of it. A chunk of skin was visibly missing through her left eyebrow. Her hair looked to be matter with blood as well. Her lips were swollen, like she'd been hit right in the mouth. Her bottom lip was split in a few places as well, the skin knitted together with dried blood.

And that was only her face. Her shoulder was bruised a deep black and blue, sitting at an unnatural angle. Her knuckles were swollen, split, bruised and bleeding. Her white undershirt, now splattered with half-dry reddish-brown blood was rolled up to her chest, revealing an array of bruises ranging from deep purple to the orangish, yellow of milder bruises around her midsection. The poor girl was so obviously in pain, her face contorted in agony even in sleep. Her legs were hidden underneath a moth-eaten torn and dirty blue blanket.

"Please, help her," the young boy was close to tears, tugging at his sleeve and pleading. "Please."


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: Hey everybody! Happy 2018, hope your new year is off to a great start! i've had a few snow days recently due to the less than ideal weather, so i thought i'd take advantage and give you lovely folks another chapter! and sorry about the cliff hanger the other week, hopefully, i can make up for that with more chapters.**

 _And in response to my amazing and wonderful reviewers who i put off for so long, I'm sorry!_

Hakunaaaa Matataaaa: YOUR REVIEW MADE MY WEEK! I'm not even kidding, ohmygosh I'm so glad you're so invested in Rois's character! She's been through a lot, but remember, it's always darkest before the dawn! And Spot's going to take care of here, don't you worry! Rois is a little too stupid for her own good sometimes, but Spot's nothing if not logical. And you're totally right it doesn't make sense to beat up your prize fighter, right? unless that snot what you want from her anymore... omg and the ship names for Spot and Rois are hilarious! not sure they mesh too well. Maybe i'll set up a vote or something next chapter, lol. Don't forget to review!

Jean-Moddalle: sorry you hated the cliff hanger so much, but thanks for the review! lemme know what you think of the latest installment

Guest: LO AND BEHOLD FRIEND, ANOTHER CHAPTER! and leave me a name of some sort next time so i can properly respond! :)

Bea.t11: Hahaha, sorry about the cliff hanger friend, its time to take care of those wounds of hers, so here's another chapter! let me know what you think of what happens next.

.2017: thanks for your reviews fam! lemme know what you think of what happens next.

CallMeWonder: no worried about not reviewing, just as long as your reading along :) I totally get where your coming from witht eh last couple chapters being a little confusing. thanks for being honest. Do you think more details about their surroundings would help? or do i need more of where they are in relation to that background and the people in it? did that question make sense? idk thanks for reviewing! lemme know what you think of this chapter!

* * *

 _~"Please, help her," the young boy was close to tears, tugging at his sleeve and pleading. "Please."~_

Spot didn't say a word. He just knelt by the girls side and carefully pulled her into his arms, blanket and all. Small pitiful whimpers and noises of discomfort escaped her slightly parted lips, but she didn't wake. He adjusted his grip on her as gently as was possible, one arm under her knees and the other around her back, moving her into a position where she leaned into him. Her head fell against his neck as her torso slumped forward and she whimpered in pain. Her eyelashes flickered, brushing against the veins in his neck. He took a deep breath and held her close to him, her breathing shallow and soft against his collarbone.

Eoghan was staring, his eyes wide, glassy, and scared. "I got her, kid," Spot said quietly, trying not to wake her. "Now let's get outta here."

"There's a back way," Eoghan said, wiping his eyes and turning away, leading Spot to a small concrete door with an iron lock. "...but it's always locked."

Spot grunted, shifting her in his arms so he could lay her down easily and not wake her. "Lemme see it." It was not a sophisticated lock and Spot was reasonably sure he could pick it had he the time, but the lock itself was old and thoroughly rusted, looking to be on its last leg of life. He took a chunk of the cracking concrete off the floor and slammed it the rusted lock once, twice, three times, no luck. He rolled his eyes, glancing upwards- no movement yet, but there would be if he kept at it. Four, five, six- it broke.

"Hurry up, kid," he said, crouching beside Rois and hefting her once more into his arms. "They will've heard that."

* * *

The Brooklyn newsboys were shocked. Most had assumed they would not be seeing the dark haired Irish girl again, no matter her connection to their newest addition. Seeing her half-dead and lying listless in their leader's arms hours before the sun arose was quite the shock for many of them.

Eoghan held open the creaky wooden door for Spot, who turned as he walked through, careful not to knock her legs into the wooden frame. The door opened up into a large open area with six bunk beds whose headboards were shoved against the far wall. Most bunk beds had no pillows or blankets; those were given to the boys forced to sleep on the floor. There weren't enough beds for all the Brooklyn newsboys in the lodging home. But a roof was a roof, regardless of whether or not there was a bed for you underneath of it. An old and rarely-used fireplace was built into the right hand corner. There was a dusty, old, and untouched kitchenette to the left where a set of creaky and termite-infested stairs lead to the second floor. In all, the newsboy's were rather lucky and they knew it- compared to the tenement housing on the lower east side and the conditions out on the street, they were in paradise.

The squeaking hinges were enough to have a few of the older boys springing from their beds. "Spot?" One questioned, his eyes narrow and heavy with sleep as his voice croaked.

"Pick," Spot addressed the tallest of the newsboys. "Git Czech up and bring 'im ta my room. An' bring the first aid kit."

Spot crossed the room with the same self-assuredness as always, even with Rois limp in his arms, he stood with a straight back and walked with a borderline cocky swagger. Eoghan on the other hand, was quickly succumbing to worry. His lower lip trembled as he took in his sister's unmoving body, but he sucked in a quick breath and shut the door, following at Spot's heels.

Spot nudged the younger boy ahead of him, following the boy's steps up the decaying stairs. Spot's room was the first on the left. It was tiny, but it was the only room in the lodging house reserved for a single person. There was a small cracked metal tub too, a privilege reserved for the King. Eoghan had been staying two doors down on the right in a room where three bunk beds were smashed together by a smudged and stuck-shut window where the sun beat in every morning. He, and the other boys his age, stayed there.

"My room," Spot told the boy, nodding towards the door.

Eoghan had never been in there before, but knew better than to question. He quickly did as he was told and slipped inside quickly, Spot right behind him. The newsie King laid the girl on his bed, taking the threadbare blanket he kept and bundling it up as a makeshift pillow that he stuffed under her head. Eoghan, who had been taking in the room with slight surprise- Spot was much neater and cleanly than he had realized- redirected his attention to his sister. "Rois?"

Her eyes fluttered beneath her lids, but other than the slight twitch of her eyes there was no reaction.

"She'll be fine, pip-squeak," Spot said. His voice was almost soft, Eoghan thought. But, no, that wasn't the right word. It was firm, but understanding, almost empathetic. He was not a kind person, Spot. He wasn't a soft or caring person. But he wasn't cruel, Eoghan realized, and he was not -no matter what they said- heartless or unfeeling.

A lightly tanned boy with long hair in tight black curls burst through the door, a burlap bag in one hand and a three-legged stool in the other. He had a thin face, dark brown eyes and thick eyebrows which furrowed deeply upon seeing the girl's limp body. He gently moved Eoghan aside and set the stool next to the bed.


	19. Chapter 19

**_A/N: ITS A TW0-FER CAUSE I HAVE TIME TODAY AND I LOVE YOU ALL_**

 ** _merry january, hahah_**

 ** _dont forget to review!_**

* * *

 _~He gently moved Eoghan aside and set the stool next to the bed.~_

"Holy…" the boy began, his hands hovering over the girl's purple skin. He glanced up at Spot, his mouth slightly open in shock. "Who-"

"Doesn't matter," Spot said shortly. Eoghan didn't see how the older boy's eye pointedly stared at him, or how the black-haired boy nodded in understanding.

"Kid," Spot said, gaining the boy's attention, "You should get some sleep."

But the boy only shook his head, insisting he stay with his sister. "She needs me," he said, inching closer to her still form with every passing second.

"What she needs," Spot began, "is some medical attention. Ya don't havta be here fer that. Go get some sleep. Ya look like you need it." His voice was hard, firm, and it left absolutely no room for discussion. His blue eyes were demanding and cold. He dared the younger boy to disobey. With a heartbreakingly sad, withering look to the unconscious girl, Eoghan sighed and slunk towards the door where Pick laid a hand on his shoulder and lead him down the stairs. Eoghan was surprised to see a majority of the boys were up now, clustering around the bottom of the stairs and craning their necks to get a good look at what was happening up top.

"We'll get some food in you," Pick began, weaving through the cluster of newsboys, "Then you should get some sleep. You have to sell tomorrow after all, and I can tell you aren't used to getting up as early as we do. You're going to need the rest, especially after the day you've had." Pick was kind, and talkative. He didn't force Eoghan to talk about anything, he didn't even seem to care if he responded or not. But Eoghan appreciated it- the distraction, the kindness? He didn't know- but he appreciated it all the same.

Still hours after Eoghan had been forced into bed and the older boys had realized nothing was going on that they'd be able to see, Czech was working on Rois. He'd measured her heart-rate and her breathing to the best of his ability, and determined that she had no temperature as far as he could tell, but he was still trying to determine the extent of her injuries. Her ribs were bruised, a few were likely cracked, but not fully broken; that he knew. And her face would heal with time, and she'd look just the same as before, no disfiguration there except perhaps a small scar through her eyebrow. She'd been lucky on that account. Her nose wasn't broken, though it was severely bruised and a bit swollen. No teeth had been knocked out, and there was no damage to her actual eyes. As far as her shoulder was concerned however, he wasn't sure how to proceed. It was dislocated, that much he knew. In order to heal it needed to be forcibly pushed back into the socket. He'd seen it done before, in the clinic before it'd been shut down, but he'd never actually done it. He'd hurt her if he did it wrong. Well, it was going to hurt her either way, but the more he messed with it the harder it'd be for her.

"Yer gonna haveta do it," Spot said, "We can't just leave it like that, all bent outta shape."

"It's gonna hurt like hell," Red, who'd come in when the others had turned in, said with a sympathetic wince.

"It'll heal though," Czech said firmly. His foreign heritage was prominent, seeping into his Brooklyn speech pattern. He made no effort to hide it, even going as far to embrace it sometimes. It was Czech's firm belief that the ladies were drawn by his 'exotic' accent. "We're gonna need a rag fer 'er ta bite down on, sos she don' scream."

"Red," Spot said, his voice hard.

"Got it," the boy said, heading out the doorway and bringing back as clean a rag as they had available as quickly as possible. He handed it to Spot, who had knelt by the other side of the bed, one hand on the whimpering girl's head. As gently as he was able, Spot, opened her mouth and laid the twisted rag across her teeth. "Rois?"

Her eyes had fluttered open for a moment, and then went wide with fright at seeing the boys huddled around her. She cried out in pain as she immediately tried to sit and pain erupted throughout her arm and midsection. Spot laid a hand on her shoulder and brushed back her blood-matted hair. "Bite down on dat rag, Dollface," he said softly, "Czech's gonna fix yer shoulda'."

She whimpered slightly, but nodded in response, closing her eyes as Czech took her arm and bent it at a ninety degree angle at the elbow. One hand in hers, the other on her elbow, he pulled her arm slowly but incredibly firmly, sliding her bone under the shoulder blade and back into its socket. She screamed into the rag, her teeth clenching around the rag and her eyes squeezing shut. Spot let her other hand grip his, squeezing until it was almost painful.

And then it was done. "D'ere ya go, girlie. Yer shoulders fixed... 'Bout dose ribs though…" Czech looked concerned, but it seemed he was trying to be gentle. It was a rarity for him. He was usually cursing the boys' stupidity and utter lack of self-preservation as he fixed them up- an insult for every injury.

Rois spit out the rag then, looking up at Spot with slightly watery eyes as she took the time to catch her breath. "Eoghan?" was the first thing she said.

"'E's fine, worry 'bout yourself fer a minute 'ere a'ight?" Spot said gruffly, a hand on her shoulder that kept her pinned to the bed, but applied no pressure.

""E'ss'okay?"

"Yeah, girlie, yer brudda's fine."

"Good. Good. Dat's good." Her words were slightly slurred, her eyes blinking slowly open and closed as she looked up at him.

"We're gonna haveta sit her up sos I can wrap her ribs," Czech said. Spot knew without asking that meant having to somewhat undress her and sighed. "Red, git outta here. Czech and I can take care a dis. Make sure da others are sleepin', it's still a selling day tomorrow."

He did as he was asked, smiling slightly at Spot and Czech before he glanced sadly at the beaten girl lying helplessly on the bed. Shaking his head once, Red took up his position as second and set out of the room.

Once Red was gone, Spot talked to her. "Rois, hey? Lookit me." She did, her sleepy, pain-filled eyes looking up at him through hooded lashes. "We gotta wrap yer ribs up, a'ight, sos' youse gotta sit up straight. She blinked again, seemingly a little more awake and nodded, reaching out with her good hand and laying it on his shoulder. She cradled her formerly dislocated arm to her chest, steadying herself using Spot's shoulder as she pushed back the tears, letting him sit her up. He took the end of her shirt and began pulling it upward. She flinched backward, wincing at the subsequent pain. "Hey," Spot said, his eyes hard, but not uncaring. "We gotta do this."

She whimpered lightly as he pulled the fabric over her head -her chest wrap providing her with a modicum of modesty- but made no move to stop him. Afterward, he moved to sit next to her, watching the way she waved back and forth, even just sitting there. He wrapped one of her arms around his shoulders and held her steady. She was shaking like a leaf, but even so, she nodded and held Spot's hand as Czech poked and prodded at her midsection, declaring a few cracked ribs and a hell of alot of severe bruising. He began to stiffly wrap her midsection with a slightly discolored length of bandaging. A few tears dripped down over her cheeks as she held tight to Spot's shoulders. When Czech was done, she turned into him, inhaling unevenly as she rested her head on his shoulder. Slowly, a hand crept up her back, around her shoulders, and touched her, gently grazing over her skin, as comfortingly as he could, though his face never changed- stuck in the firm, unyielding expression, eyes staring out into nothing.

Czech didn't comment on the way Spot held her, or how he'd let her use him for balance, or let her cling to his hand. He didn't comment on the fact that Spot was actually helping him with her, or how his fingers ghosted over her skin reverently and with a gentle care Czech had seen only a few times before. He didn't comment on the fact that she seemed to trust him, how the girls bright hazel eyes were focused solely on him, helpless and hating it, but trusting him not to hurt her, to take care of her. And he certainly didn't comment on the fact that Spot indeed seemed to care for her.


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N:** hey everybody! School really sucks, but that's nothing new. Midterms are next week but I only have a few of them so we should be okay. Just gotta get through this semester.

Either way, I have a question for you all! It's fairly important to the story and where it will go from here. There's going to be a few short and semi-fluffy chapters in which Spot and Rois build their relationship and she gets a bit more integrated into the Brooklyn boys lives, but then... there's a few options.

1) the strike? Do you want to see Rois and Eoghan go through the strike with the rest of the newsies? build relationships with the manhattaners and go to Medda's and be a part of it all? Or should it be in the past, new tensions arising instead. The latter will probably yield faster updates.

2) Rich and Walt? I have a semi-plan for them, however, I am totally open to suggestions and want to know what you all see happening to these sleaze-bags.

3) how do you feel about a newsie-turf war?

please leave answers and/or reviews!

 _To my faithful reviewers, of whom I love dearly..._

 _CallMeWonder_ : I hope your feeling better! Sick days aren't usually much fun. Thanks for the review! I think Spot's a tough-guy. He's not a softy. he's been through too much and been that way too long to suddenly change... i don't think that's realistic. you are who you are, you don't suddenly change because you met someone.

 _Jean-Moddalle:_ I understand better now about the cliff-hanger thing, thanks for PMing me! and thanks for the review!

 _Hakunaaaa Matataaaa:_ Maybe last names will produce a better Ship name, lol. (Though i dont think Sprois is so bad) Your reviews make my day! They always make me smile! thank you so much! Don't worry too much, shes in definite pain but shes on the road to recovery and as long as shes in the lodging house nothing can touch her! Lemme know what you think.

 _.2018:_ thanks for the review! lemme know what you think of this chapter

 _Maquisleader17_ : Thanks for your review i can't tell you how happy it makes me when i get a new review from a new person, so welcome! and thanks for giving eoghan some love! hes a very determined little boy!

 _coveredinbees14_ : Thanks so much for your review! thank you for reading! lemme know what you think about this chapter

 _Emmalicious_ : DO IT, I LOVE JOKES! and thanks so much for your review! lemme know what you think.

 _CatherineA_ : Well, now you can see what happens next! thanks so much for your review!

 _Viola_ : I'm back, don't worry, I'm always working on this story! thanks for you review! i was really trying to make them get to know each other and build a relationship. neither of them are the type to stumble and fall into love, i dont think. lemme know what you think about where the story's going.

* * *

He was still there when she woke. She lay on her back, a threadbare blanket cast over her, and he sat beside her, asleep in a chair. His feet were propped up on the corner of the bed, arms crossed over his chest and his head fallen forward, chin to chest. His hair blocked his face from view and for some inexplicable reason… she wanted to see the blue of his eyes, once more.

She knew better than to try to sit. Her body ached from head to toe just lying here.

She breathed shallowly- How had she even gotten here? Where… this was the newsboy's lodging house, was it not? Eoghan, where was he?

That was the sudden pressing question- where was her brother?- and it was enough to get her moving, even knowing she shouldn't. It didn't go very well.

She moved her legs up and tried to sit up a bit, but winced, crying out softly and falling back onto the thin mat.

The sound was enough to wake Spot.

"You are intelligent, aren't you?" Spot asked. Though his voice was thick with sleep, it was still cutting. "I couldn't have been that wrong about you." He met her eyes, saying firmly, "You're injured, and ya can't get out of that bed."

"Where's me brudda?" she breathed.

He rolled his eyes, taking his feet off the bed one by one and setting them on the floor. He stretched as he stood, leaning his neck to the right, and then to the left. His clothes were rumpled, hair messy, and his eyes heavy with a lack of sleep. "He's fine- it's a selling day," he told her.

"Oh," she breathed, "'e… 'e's fittin' in well, den?" Her voice was soft and shaky- unsure and maybe a little scared.

He turned to look at her. Bottom lip trembling slightly, eyes a little glassy, but refusing to cry. The threadbare blanket was pulled up to her chest, fingers curling around the frayed hem. She looked tiny and scared- not at all the fierce Irish girl he'd met downtown. "Spot," she said as he turned away from her.

"I tried to come back," she told his back. "That day… I got the rings, and I," she stopped. "I tried to come back." Her voice shook and her breathing hastened.

And Damn it all, Spot thought to himself, he cared. Turning around, he stopped her words- she was too weak to tell him that story yet. "You're here now, a'ight?" he said, somewhat more harshly than he intended. "You're fine."

She laughed a little at that and he shook his head, a smile creeping up on his lips- that had been a lie.

"Spot."

His blue eyes lifted to meet hers.

"T'ank yee," she said, "Fer comin' fer me."

He shook his head. "Couldn't let the kid go by 'imself, could I?"

She smiled at him again, that softness back in her eyes. She could see right through the gruffness in his voice. She knew he cared.

He sighed. "Get some rest, Rois," he said, closing the door behind him with a creak.

And though she was alone in the room she didn't feel that way. Here, in the dilapidated Newsboy's Lodging House, in what could only be Spot's room, the boy himself somewhere downstairs… she felt… well, she wasn't sure if safe was the right word -not yet- but… saf _er_. Secure. And that was more than good enough for her, at least for now.


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N:** Hey everybody my midterms are over and I HAVE IDEAS! I'm ready to write and really excited to get everything published here, so hang with me while I edit! There's lots of story to come!

About my poll thing last chapter

1) If you have any more thoughts on any of those things I WANT TO HEAR THEM. I really really do. I want to know what you all want to see and what you like and what you don't like. Reviews make my life. seriously.

2) If I did the strike, it'd be strictly Brooklyn's view- only about Rois and Spot and Brooklyn's involvement. (Rich and Walt coming into play a bit down the line) i'd also want to continue the story after the strike and show you the aftermath as things roll with our two protags

3) I think this story is going to be insanely long and many parts... that okay with you all?

 _And to my wonderful and fabulous amazingly beautiful and smart reviewers whom I love..._

 _Emmalicious_ : You're hilarious, send me every joke you think as you read. it made my night. Spot's a borough leader so I think he'll constantly be dealing with other borough leaders, so hell deal with turf stuff, but my brain is really really just going with strike ideas.

 _Guestanewone (I thought it was funny so Imma keep it as your identified oh anonymous one)_ : Lemme know what you think of how the story is going, I alwasy read your reviews :)

 _CatherineA_ : I totally get where your coming from with the repetition of strike stories... but I don't know if I've ever come across a fic that was strictly from brooklyn's POV. I've always seen it as Manhattan characters. And don't you worry its not a newsies story without our manhattan boys! they'll be making more than one appearance in our story.

 _Hakunaaaa Matataaaa_ : Have I mention that I absolutely adore every single one of your reviews. You always makes me laugh. Sorry about the short chapter. THis one is a bit short too, but another is soon to come, like really soon. Maybe tomorrow or this weekend. I got you on the ship name front- that shit's hard! What do you think about going through the strike, strictly brooklyn pov with spot and out main girl and then the aftermath of the strike and tensions that arise following their tie in the spotlight? AND OMG I was so flattered. Idk how to get you a signed copy though,lol, i never even printed this baby out. They are playing hard to get cause theyre tough lil nuggets who cant deal with their own emotions!

 _Viola:_ Here's some more excitement for ya- the next chapter should be coming out super soon. its pretty much done. I am all for mixing ideas! I hit a bit of a wall recently with turf war ideas... but i've got more than a few for during the strike in brookyn. Lemme know what you think!

 _Jean-Moddalle:_ You're amazing, as always- loved the Irish lol. see ya next chapter- lemme know what you think.

 _.2018_ : nice review :)

 _Maquisleader17:_ I'm sorry for the length! this one is short too but the next one is coming really really soon! And you are so right, he can't admit to anything feelings-wise! but he'll come around eventually.

 _Bea.t11:_ I'm glad you enjoyed it! their relationship is crawling at a snail's pace right now but they need to trust one another, they need to build that foundation, and that's not easy for two people like Spot and Ris. they'e had too many bad experiences. what do you think about going through the stike as a brooklynite- strictly their pov with out two protags and then through the aftermath and what happens after- new tensions rising? rich and walter are a sort of sub-plot, i guess?

 _New Guest I am naming 'G2':_ You're very sweet. I really like your idea of the turf war not being on brooklyn territory- that was unique! (I might use that, if you don't mind ;) ) Lemme know what you think!

* * *

 _~She felt… well, she wasn't sure if safe was the right word -not yet- but… safer. Secure. And that was more than good enough for her, at least for now.~_

The second time she woke she was alone. She wondered if she could get up, but the throbbing in her side told her that was not suggestible. So instead she shifted awkwardly in bed and debated the best way of entertaining herself.

Spot's room was unadorned- not that she was expecting much-. Occupied only with one bed, thin pillow, and blanket, a small side table she suspected he also used as a dresser with a few charcoal pencils, a small notepad, and a small ornate lockbox on top. The small box captured her attention immediately. It was made of a dark wood, something vaguely familiar, with organic line patterns forming a recurring design motif she was certain she'd seen before. It reminded her of home.

Spot had said his mother was Irish, didn't he?

But she was snooping. That's rude.

So she tried to divert her attention. But it was _boring_. There was no good view outside from where she laid and all she could properly see was the door- currently closed.

She sighed loudly, then whimpered at the pain it caused. She breathed slowly, and experimentally moved her arm. There was an ache in her shoulder, a lingering pain from the dislocation. It hurt more if she moved it.

Spot was, of course, frustratingly correct- she would not be leaving this bed for a while. At least not by herself.

When the door finally creaked open a newsie boy with a head of tight black curls entered. Immediately she was on edge, though in her current condition she could do little but stare.

"Relax," he said with a roll of his eyes. His attitude was annoying, but she felt he meant her no harm. Judging by the too-big pants rolled up to the ankle, held on by a black belt, the threadbare blue-stained shirt, and worn shoes, he was a newsie- one of Spot's. She had no idea he'd been the one to patch her up- and he had no intention of telling her.

"What's your name?" she asked his, guardedly watching his eyes move.

"Czech," he said simply as he neared her bed side. "I've been sent to check on you." His speech was thick with an accent unfamiliar to her, but judging by his newsie-name she could guess.

"Well?" she said, expecting him to do something.

"Well, what?" the boy snarked, eyebrows furrowed nastily. "You got pummeled, Dollface. Ain't much I can do, you're on your own less you want me changing those bandages 'round your ribs."

"Yer a real ar'sehole, ya know," she snapped.

He only laughed.

She rolled her eyes and attempted to shift her position a bit.

"Don't move your arm."

She sighed, "It hurts."

"Ain't my fault," he shrugged. He sat down on the rickety chair Spot had occupied that morning and held a cup of water with a straw out to her.

She took it wordlessly.

And as she began to drink the door slammed against the wall as the intruder burst gracelessly into the room. In surprise, she almost spit out the water, but recovered quick enough to set it aside on the table before said intruder collided with the side of the bed.

"Do be more careful with the furnishings, Pipsqueak," Czech commented, but the boy paid no notice.

"Rois," the boy grinned.

"'Ello little brother," she grinned, reaching up to brush back his growing hair.

"Yer awake"

"Ya need a 'airut," she responded. The boy only made a face and gently batted her hand away from his face.

"Do not," he denied.

She laughed, but it was cut short by the pain it caused her ribs.

"Rois?" her brother questioned worriedly.

"I'm a'ight," she smiled tightly.

"You're a shitty liar," the curly-haired boy commented from off to the side.

Narrowing her eyes at him she promptly told him to shut his trap or get the hell out.


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N:** Told ya it be up soon, didn't I? ;)

THIS IS MUCH LONGER THAN THE OTHERS. THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR STICKING WITH ME. Lemme know what you think.

 **Rois and Eoghan's last name is Fannin. Rois Fannin and Eoghan Fannin.** (Jean-Moddalle asked me and thought you'd all want to know.)

 _To my beautiful viewers and reviewers..._

 _Jean-Moddalle_ : I answered your question above. Can't believe I never mentioned it in the story! Thanks so much for asking. Lemme know what you think of this longer chapter.

 _Hakunaaaa Matataaaa_ : Jeezes I lover you :) lol. I'm glad you liked Czech. He's gonna be a sarcastic little shit and I love him for it. I'll get right on that signed copy thing- might help if I finished the story though. Prepare for feels!

 _Guestanewone_ : You're killin' me Smalls! Thanks for clearing that up thought I think we're all good now. Your wish is my command, friend, here is a longer chapter for your enjoyment. Lemme know what you think!

 _Viola_ : I am having a really hard time making that decision actually! I love aspects of both, and I wanna keep this fic as true to the time period as possible. So... I was thinking I'd do a bit of a mesh. I am writing this fic in the NEWSIE MOVIE section and not the NEWSIE BROADWAY section of fanfiction so... I don't know. For example, though I adore broadway medda, i'm going to go with movie medda for the sake of time-period (people were super racist and beautiful black medda would not have flown i dont think). I think it'll be movie-centric with some broadway-loves thrown in. What do you think? Race/Spot scenes will be coming down the line. I always pictured them as friends for some reason and I'll show that in this fic. I'll make it a poker scene if it fits :) And I'm so glad you liked Czech- he's gonna be a sarcastic little shit and its gonna be beautiful!

* * *

 _~Narrowing her eyes at him (Czech) she promptly told him to shut his trap or get the hell out.~_

Spot, entering the room just in time to see it occur, laughed. "Feisty, ain't she, Czech?"

She rolled her eyes, but greeted him anyway. "Hi, Spot."

"Rois," he grinned, his impossibly blue eyes stuck on her swirling green ones. "Feeling better?"

"I am," she began, but the curly-haired boy cut her off.

"Her ribs prolly need a re-wrapping and she keeps moving."

"You try laying still all day," she snapped.

Spot smirked at her words. "Boring day, was it, Dollface?"

She rolled her eyes at him, but the upward tilt of her lips suggested she was more amused than annoyed.

"Spot said you'd be okay," Eoghan commented softly, sitting beside her legs on the bed.

"He was right," she laughed lightly, slightly uncomfortable.

Eoghan frowned. "Why did you go back?" he asked.

"I had ta," she smiled. Then looked up at Spot, "You saw 'em... when you got my clothes?"

He nodded. He'd seen 'em alright.

"Saw what?" Eoghan questioned.

Spot nudged Czech out of the way and opened the small drawer of the side table and withdrawing the pair of thin grey socks she'd been wearing. From within, two solid and intricately designed gold rings fell into his palm. Eoghan eyed them curiously.

"They're mum and pa's," Rois explained softly. "I couldn't let them keep 'em. They're worth a whole lot… and..." Her voice was strong if quiet and though her eyes were watery, her features conveyed determination. She would do it again- risk her life to preserve the last memento of her previous life, of her parents and Ireland. Of home.

It was stupid and reckless, Spot knew, but there was something in that determination he could say he begrudgingly admired. But never to her.

He laid the rings in her hand- the brush of his skin against hers sent an unfamiliar sensation through him he promptly ignored.

"You…" Eoghan began, "You risked everything for rings?"

She shook her head. "They're all we have of home," she told him.

"I don't even remember 'home'," Eoghan snapped, his eyes narrowing in much the same way hers did when angered. "You could have died!"

"I could die tomorrow, don't make a difference," she said, her face taking on a harshness that didn't fit. "We wouldda died years ago had I not fought," she snapped. "Every fight, every match," she said, "I was protecting us."

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"Didn't you notice how the others disappeared?" she laughed humorlessly. "The others had nothing- no property, no talent, nothing…" She shook her head. "They were of no use so Walt and Rich sold them out, sold them off…" She met her little brother's eyes with a hard gaze. "Pa sold everything we ever had. But I saved these and I protected us." She said harshly, "I protected you."

He shook his head, "No," His voice shook, eyes watery. "No… we could have left. We could a run," he said.

She shook her head, "They'd have hunted us down… they still will," she said. "But they won't get you," she said strongly.

"You can't-" Eoghan began to shout but Spot cut him off.

"That's enough," he said- voice cold and hard. Spot never shouted. He never needed to. The icy cold of his voice was always enough.

Eoghan shrunk under his gaze and glanced only once at his sister before storming out of the room.

She sighed, her head falling back against the pillow. "They'll hunt for me… doesn't mean they'll find me. And they definitely won't find him." She said it strongly. "They wouldn't even recognize him…"

"Rois," Spot began.

She sniffed, eyes drawn downward. She wasn't sure when he'd acquired the ability to make her feel bad, but he had, and she wasn't a fan.

Czech rolled his eyes and left the room, noticing the pair needed a moment alone and respecting that need while also managing to take a stab at the illustrious leader. Spot would remember to appropriately embarrass the newsie later, but in this moment, Rois's tendency towards self-destruction was all that mattered.

"I know," she muttered. "I knowse I'm a mess."

Spot shook his head, jaw clenching. What was he supposed to say to that?

"I'm a right disaster and I knowse it, okay, I does." she said quickly, defensively, eyes watering and frustration evident as her Irish blood became more and more evident through the slight brooklyn twist to her words, "I just… I dunno how ta be okay, okay?" she said, looking up at him cautiously. "I was always fightin' an' hidin' an' scramblin' ta keep goin' an' I… I'm tryin'. I'm tryin' ta be happy… I'm alive, and Eoghan's happy -t'anks ta ya- and I… I dunno, but I'm tired of fightin'," she admitted softly, looking up at him with slightly ashamed eyes. "Maybe I jus' dunno how ta be okay…"

"You put yerself-"

"In danger, I know," she cut him off. He grit his teeth at the interruption, but let her finish. "But I had to. I couldn't let them… they're gold!" she emphasized, referring to the rings now at home on a long string around her neck, settling heavily between her breasts. "They're ours, righ'fully… they're all I got a home," she trailed off.

Swallowing back any words he could have said, Spot cleared his throat. Then he met those big round eyes of hers."You do it again, I ain't goin after ya," he asserted, an intense frown on his face.

She grinned up at him. "Course, not," she smiled, green-brown eyes still a little glassy, though the small smile on her face was genuine. It faded quickly. "I… What I said to Eoghan… that they might come afta' me," she said. "It ain' a lie," she told him earnestly. "They'll come an-"

He sighed, lowering himself to sit on the beside and lifted her chin with his hand so that he could see her glassy green eyes. "Yer safe 'ere," he said. "Ise swear it."

She calmed, lost in his eyes and as she blinked a single tear dripped down her cheek, brushed away by the sun kissed and calloused hand of the newsie king. "I'll pay ye back someday," she said determinedly.

He shook his head, "Just get better, Rois," he said a touch of softness in an otherwise firm demand. And dammit if his voice wasn't considerate, if he didn't care about her and- He shook his head. He did not care about her. He didn't. Even if he did.


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N:** Ahhhhhhh I HATE calculus so much. Send help!

Sorry this chapter is so short! The next one should be out by the end of the week or so though, so don't worry! I won't hold you up for long.

 _To my amazing reviewers..._

 _Emmalicious_ : You are so sweet! let me know what you think of this chapter and the nest to come!

 _Hakunaaaa Maataaaa_ : OHMYGOSH I LOVE YOU SO MUCH I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU WENT BACK AND REVIEWED ON EVERY CHAPTER YOU ARE SO AMAZING! But back to the chapter review, i'm so glad you liked the sib!fight. I wasn't sure how great that was. i have trouble writing conflict... everything always ends up with a happy resolution and i'm like no!dammit that was supposed to be a blow-up smash-down fight! I really love czech i want him to be in every chapter so he will be worked in just because i love sarcasm and dry humor. SPOT CANNOT DEAL WITH EMOTIONS. He represses everything! Rois is feeling a little down right now, a little out of place and not herself. but she'll get back in the swing of things soon. She will definitely meet Manhattan! especially if i got strike-wise as i am currently leaning right now. teasing will be inevitable! sorry this chapter is so short but the next is coming soon! and I will think on your sequel idea!

 _Viola_ : I AM SO CONFLICTED ABOUT KATHERINE! I'm going to do a bit of a movie-broadway mash-up... and i want to stick with time period. so...red-head medda... keeping the lodging houses, i still want the judge scene and the 'francis sullivan' thing... but i also want to keep aritist!jack. i love katherine- she's a go-getter and has great personality but she's just so... idk she fits very well in the musical... but not so in the movie. What do you think? Also! Spot and Rois are around 16, but Eoghan is 12.

 _Guestanewone_ : You're good, fam! I'm so glad you love my Spot! (I'm rather fond of him as well XD) Rois is having a bit of a crisis, but she'll pull herself together in no time! lemme know what you think of this chapter.

 _Lemoncello 158_ : Thanks bud! Lemme know what you think of this chapter!

 _Jean-Moddalle_ : I can always count on you! What do you think of this chapter?

 _.2018_ : :)

 _Succulentie_ : Ohmygosh your review was so sweet! If you read my author's notes at the beginngins of the other chapter you know i was having a bit of a debate with myself about where to take this story. i'm thinking brooklyn-centered strike focused on rois and spot. what do you think?

 _Jaywing25_ : Welcome back, fam! I'm so glad you enjoy my writing! Sorry this chap is so short, next ones longer i promise and will be up shortly! Let me know what you think!

* * *

 _~He did not care about her. He didn't. Even if he did.~_

"Spot," she interrupted- her voice a little emotional still, though her attention was now completely on him- looking more confused than sad. "Are we-"

"You need someone to re-wrap yer ribs," he interrupted.

She sighed, noticing the not-so-subtle deflection. "Spot-"

"I'll get-"

"No," she cut him off, grabbing a hold of his hand before he could escape. "Just you," she said strongly. "I trust ya… jus'…. Just you," she admitted, head and shoulders lifted off the bed, as she twisted and pushed herself up on her elbows to look at him even as her ribs screamed in protest.

There was a stupid fluttering in his chest he ignored completely as he turned back to her- shoving her roughly back flat onto the bed- "Keep doing that and they'll never heal," he told her sharply, his eyes flashing darkly.

She rolled her eyes.

He glared at her even as he offered her a hand and carefully sat her back up in a way that was careful, considerate, and virtually painless- taking care to keep her from twisting and spraining her injuries like she so often did. She blushed to the roots of her hair- the threadbare blanket no longer offering her modesty -she'd bled on her other shirt and had yet to find a replacement-. She sat before him in pants and a breast-band, bandages around the top of her rib-cage.

"Arms up," he said and she did as he asked, still flushed- moving the one arm carefully, wincing as she did.

He bit his cheek as he focused on the wrappings- determined not to let his eyes wander. But she whimpered slightly as he re-wrapped her ribs- tight in order to keep them in place- and quickly assured him she was fine, but it did not help. He was still far more worried than he felt he ought to be. When he was done, he locked his eyes to her face- trying not to think of her creamy expanse of pale skin, the hollows of her collarbone and how the pale skin disappeared under a wrapping at the swell of her breast. Damn, she was beautiful and looking directly into her greenish eyes- even as the deep purplish bruising on her face distorted the normal coloration of her skin- she was distractingly breathtaking.

"I don't suppose ye got a shirt I could borra'?" she asked shyly.

He almost laughed. "I'll find one for you when I'm done," he murmured, his fingertips grazing her skin as he rewound the bandaging around her purpled rib-cage. She sucked in a breath when he pulled it tighter, but he didn't acknowledge it. When he finished he tied it off and stood. Then he grabbed a button up as to give them easier access to her ribs- it was one of only four he owned, but at the moment she needed it more than him. He gave her a dark blue one that still smelled of him, not that she minded. She slipped her arms in and buttoned up the front, fumbling a few times with the buttons as she thanked him, blushing lightly all the while. It was a bit big on her, but not too bad- the collar a big large, the sleeves just a bit long, and the hem coming down to just past her bottom. She looked maybe not beautiful, but definitely… _something_.

She's… something, he thought as he left the room, mumbling about dinner and thinking about kissing her.


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N** : JK I lied about this chapter being longer. But it is quick! _  
_

* * *

 _~She's… something, he thought as he left the room, mumbling about dinner and thinking about kissing her.~_

Later that night he set up a small cot on the other side of the room to sleep on- the bunks downstairs were filled to bursting and he was not taking one of his boys' beds, nor was he sleeping on the floor again. He was a king, after all.

She smiled and asked jokingly if they were 'roomies'. She looked a bit better than before. Her large eyes were bright and she held a long strand of yarn in her hand, knotting it absently into some sort of bracelet.

"Ya know…" he began, sitting on the small chair by the head of the bed. "Ya still ain't told me what happened. You got the rings… how'd ya get so beat up?" he asked.

She inhaled sharply, wincing at the strain it put on her injuries. "I… It took me a bit ta get in dere room without causin' a scene, sos I hung around a bit. When I... well, Rich caught me in their room… wasn't that unusual- I used to have ta do their wash and clean, sos 'e didn't notice I'd taken the rings. 'E," she stuttered. "He said some… vulga' things…" her eyes darted from his as she shifted awkardly. "Said somethin' about me not winnin' them so much money anymore and- an' t'at I should be payin' off ma debts in… in a- a _different_ way," her voice shook as her eyes took on a dark and angry look, a flush to her cheeks that could be from embarrassment or anger… or both. "Den Walt showed up, an'-"

Spot more than got the message. His hands balled into fists, wishing he'd killed the monsters when he'd had the chance. "Did they-" he began, his voice tight.

"I- I fought 'em off," she assured him. Her voice was quick and tight. She didn't want to think about it. He didn't blame her. "They'd hit me before… called it 'trainin' for the fights," She shook her head. "But... uh, they knocked me around, into the wall- hit my head on the table fallin' down… knocked me out," she admitted. "They tossed me down the stairs and left me there to rot," she snapped. "I had just enough energy to crawl into the corner and lay down on the blankets…" She shook her head. "Next thing I know, I'm 'ere." She tried to smile, but it was feeble ad she knew it. "So, uh… T'ank you again," she said. "Fer savin me."

"Ya did that already," he said stiffly, moving up off the bed.

She shook her head and gently reached over to grab his hand. "I mean it, Spot," she said, "T'ank you."

"Get some sleep, Rois."


	25. Chapter 25

A/N: I'M SO SORRY! Here's another chapter everybody, sorry to keep you waiting. Not much, Rois in this one but a bit of a look into Spot's everyday goings-on and into how the boroughs deal with one another. I have been reconsidering the strike idea... however I already have a good amount down and i don't think the strike will last too long... five to ten chapters at the most and it'll go quicker than usual i think. No matter what it'll be background to Spot and Rois. Lemme know what you think! I'm having a debate with myself.

 _To those who review..._

 _Hakunaaaa Matataaaa:_ Hahaha, they'll get there i promise! they're just very stubborn. thanks for the review!

 _Jean-Moddalle_ : thank you as always my friend :)

 _Succlentie_ : I totally see your point with the strike and I AM SO BAD WITH SPELLING. i kinda correct it in my head whne i'm reading and don't see it on my drafts. that's usually why it takes me so long to edit - i have to fix my spelling and i still dont get it all. sorry for the long wait!

 _Jaywing25_ : Lol, yeah, spot's catching some feelings but hes not happy about it! She's a little shady, i'll give you that. she's also kinda proud and doesn't like to admit when she's been beaten. And thanks so much for your review and your suggestions!

 _Emmalicious_ : Hes not happy about catching those feeling though!

Viola: Lemme know what you think! Spot is now vehemently denying those feelings!

Guestanewone: You're so sweet! thanks for reviewing both! Spot's feelings are a roller coaster! hot and cold, man.

 _.2018_ : Thank ya!

 _DreamDancer_ : Sorry this took so long! Thanks for loving the siblings and rois in general, i'm rather fond of her as well, lol. I'm not sure how to write her name in a way that translates to speech, if you google it i'm pretty sure you can find a strange internet video that; i'll say it to you. i'll work on it for next time!

* * *

~"Get _some sleep, Rois."~_

He ignored her presence completely the next day. Spot would not have a girl distracting him. He just wouldn't. He was Spot Conlon. The King of Brooklyn. The most feared newsie in New York, and damn if he was gonna slip.

He could not afford to slip- especially not now.

So he sat atop the boxes on the docks. For all intents and purposes it was their own private pier. This section of the construction was slightly rotted, the wood old and boards loose. Outside it was labeled "BROOKLYN EXCURSIONS- CLOSED" but he paid no mind. They knew their way around. There was no danger for them.

He watched his newsies, pointedly not thinking about the irish girl with the lopsided smile and eyes with emerald flecks currently lying in his bed. Eoghan sat with Bait, Bones, and Legs on the edge, the four were laughing. He looked happy. The boy fit in well, as he knew he would. And he would not regret it having him join. Eoghan was a quick learner, fast seller, and a smart kid.

Pick had taken to him well, become a sort of mentor, just as Spot had hoped he would. He himself could not- it would be seen as favoritism, the boy would be seen as weak and incapable, susceptible to the other's ridicule, and he would be seen as a having a weakness. Spot Conlon had no such weakness.

Rat appeared next to him, the boy's ability to go unnoticed uncanny. "I gots a report," he whispered scratchily. The two disappeared from the docks back to the lodging house as they conversed. Rat was what the newsies called one of Spot's 'birdies'- informants that gathered information as the King saw fit, keeping him informed to the other boroughs issues. There was a reason Brooklyn was the most dangerous borough after all- it wasn't all due to the rowdy newsies more prone than most to fights and dangerous streets.

It was because Brooklyn always _knows_.

"I was pokin' 'round Queens like youse said. You was right 'bout the succession problem. Ace's still fixin to get out. Found a girl, needs a real job to marry her an' all. But he ain't never picked a second, see… bound to be a bit a unrest dere."

"'Sides Ace, Blackjack's been there the longest."

"'S likely he'll take over," Rat nodded, "Ain't gonna be pretty," He shook his head, "Seems he's got the idea that Queens's bowed to Brooklyn's hand for too long- wants ta push the borders back they way theyse was 'fore you took over."

"Blackjack's not dumb… 'e knows thats a fight he can't win."

Rat shrugged. "Not alone at least."

"Mmmm," Spot sounded. "Anything on the Bronx? Cowboy said they was pushin' the borders."

"Eights ain't gonna be a problem anymore," Rat grinned, the missing tooth in his yellowed smile showing. "Me an' the o'hers took care o' it just like youse said. 'E was too scared to do anything but nod. He'll stay out a Manhattan."

Spot had to crack a grin. Cowboy owed him a favor now. "Watch him for a few days- just to be sure, then report back."

Rat nodded.

"And Rat?"

"Yeah, Spot?"

"You see Smokes you send him back here. I wanna know what he's got on our guest's former employers."

"Will do," Rat said, disappearing out the back door and onto the streets.

Red met him when he returned to the docks. The other boy sat a box lower than him and asked without looking, "Saw you disappear with Rat. News?"

"Queens is stirring up a problem. We're watching," he explained vaguely.

"Good nuff," the taller boy nodded, looking up at the borough leader. "How's our Irish Lady?" he grinned.

Spot stared at the boy until his smile faded.

"Eoghan said they weren't talking?" the taller boy asked genuinely.

Spot nodded. "She's trouble," he said, "Too stubborn- she doesn't know when to quit." He shook his head. "She'll get herself killed," he said tersely.

Red smiled.

Spot narrowed his eyes at his second in command. "What?" he snapped.

"Nothing… just reminds me of someone," he suppressed a laugh.


	26. Chapter 26

**A/N:** Not too much happens in this chapter guys... it's just a little bit of a pick me up. Lemme know what you think.

 _To my reviewers, you lovely folk, you :)_

 _Hakunaaa Matataaaa_ : Sorry i don't have more for you right now, but coming up there will be more Spot/Rois an you can see who'll win in a battle of wills :) lemme know what you think of Rois's little hidden talent?

 _Guest_ : Sorry there's not too much action, but its just sort of background and characters relations and little snippets in time until everything starts up.

 _Jean-Moddalle_ : Thank You for your review, as always!

 _Guestanewone_ _:_ This fic is a total focus on spot and the little world the newsies live in and what they experience outside of manhattan so i hope t include a lot more stuff like with aces and getting out and just how they function! Lemme know what you think of what's going on and where the story's going :)

 _.2018_ : thanks fam!

* * *

"And Red?" Spot heard Rois ask softly as he approached his room- he supposed it was theirs now. He'd given her the bed. But he'd since taken up residence on a small cot erected on the other wall a few feet away at night. "Ya… you been keepin' an eye on me brudda', yeah?"

"Rois…"

"I ain't askin ye ta talk to 'im fer me," she said hurriedly. "I'll… I gotta do t'at on me own… when I can see 'im. I jus'... tank ya, is all."

"It ain't a big deal, Dollface."

"Oh, not you too," she groaned, "Spot already has all the lil ones callin' me that."

He laughed. "Name's catchin', ain't it?"

"Git outta here," she laughed. "And tell Legs I sewed up 'is pants fer 'im!"

Red was laughing when he exited, almost running right into Spot, who cast him a slightly warning, slightly amused glaze. Red rolled his eyes at the Leader and gestured back over his shoulder at Rois. "She's fittin' in well."

Spot nodded, "Fer now… half da boys ain't seen her an' she'd been 'ere a week."

"She keeps sewein' up e'rebodies clothes like she's doin and she'll have da whole lodgin house on 'er side," Red laughed.

"Pipsqueak doin' any better?" Spot asked with narrowed eyebrows. Rois was doing much better, but Eoghan had been struggling since she woke- he was angry with her, but he loved her. He worried about her, but he didn't want to speak to her. The short and stocky little boy was all sorts of conflicted.

"'E's alright," Red shrugged. "I think he misses her."

Spot nodded, "Keep an eye on him."

"Will do," Red grinned.

It stormed that night. Hard. The heavy grey clouds that had smothered the blue of the sky for the last few days letting loose with the crack of lighting and the cry of thunder booming off the brick walls of the city as rain pounded the streets.

It was a harder storm then they'd experienced in quite a long time. Eoghan jumped at the sudden clap of thunder, glancing upward to the ceiling, but Spot knew he wasn't thinking about the roof- but the girl upstairs. He shook his head and joined in a game of marbles with Rickety, and Yo-Yo- determined to ignore the pounding of the rain and the rolling of thunder overhead. A nod in the boy's direction told Red to keep an eye on the kid.

Bait and Legs crept up the stairs in a way that said they thought they were sneaky- little did they know Spot, Pick, Red and at least three other newsies were well aware of their movements.

Czech passed them on the way down, and rolled his eyes as Spot moved to follow them from a distance. "She said something about singing to her brother during storms earlier today when Legs mentioned he didn't like rain," he said by way of explanation.

In Eoghan's absence at her beside, the two youngest newsie boys had taken up a residence at the foot of her bed- keeping her company, they said, but it seemed they liked having the small bit of normalcy, a girl fretting over their appearance, their well being, did they have enough to eat?

When he walked by the room, Legs sat at the foot of the bed, Bait sitting close-up next to her, leaning closer as the thunder roared and the rain bared down even harder, dripping through the roof as it did in the corner of the room.

"It's a'ight," she smiled, an arm around the boy. "God's playin' music, t'at's all," she said.

"Think 'e needs more practice," Legs mumbled.

She laughed. "Well, I did promise you a song earlier- would you like to hear one?" she was offering a distraction.

They nodded furiously and she thought for a moment before she sang:

 _"One evening fair as I roved out down the river side,_

 _I heard a lovely maid complain- the tears rolled down her eyes,_

 _'It was a cold and stormy night'- these sad words did she say-_

 _'When my love went on the raging sea, bound for Americay!'_

 _'My love was a fisherman. His age was scarce eighteen!'_

 _He was a handsome man as was ever yet seen,_

 _My father, he has riches, and O'Riley was but poor,_

 _And because he was a fisherman he could not him endure."_

It was a sad song with a happy tune, forbidden love and all- cliche, but good song material. And her voice was fair, not melodious and high like Medda's, but soft and pleasant sounding, maybe just a bit off-key.

"How come 'e couldn't stay wit 'er?" Bait asked.

"She was rich," she sighed, "and her fisherman boy was poor… so her father wouldn't let them be together."

"That's wrong," he heard Bait state strongly and knew she was smiling.

"It is," she said, thunder rolling overhead, "Oh don't be afraid," she said.

"I ain't afraid!"

"A 'course not"

"...I just don like da rain."

Spot noticed Eoghan too had climbed the stairs to listen in. "She singing?" he asked.

Spot nodded as she told the boys, "Rain is a good thing! Lets the crops grow and the flowers bloom. Irishmen love the rain," she said.

"Will you sing another song?" Legs asked her hopefully.

"I will," she said with a smile. "Any requests?"

"Sing the one about Irish Eyes," Eoghan said, drawing their attention to himself as he walked in the door. Spot standing in the shadows, just outside the door, unseen.

Rois smiled softly at her brother, one hand twirling the pair of rings on her makeshift rope necklace and the other motioning for him to join them on the bed. He sat down on the edge beside Legs and gave her a shaky smile. Perhaps not all was fixed, but it was on is way to mending.

 _"When Irish Eyes are smiling,"_ she began the happy tune with a smile and a pointed look at Eoghan.

 _"Sure, 'tis like the morn in Spring._

 _In the lilt of Irish laughter,"_ her voice rose.

 _"You can hear the angels sing._

 _When Irish hearts are happy,_  
 _All the world seems bright and gay._  
 _And when Irish eyes are smiling,_  
 _Sure, they steal your heart away."_

Spot watched the boys laugh, despite the darkness roaring just outside and with an upward tilt of his mouth, left the hall, a pair of green eyes smiling in his mind.


	27. Chapter 27

**A/N:** This is more of a drabble than a chapter... next one should be longer. The action will start back up around chapter 30.

 _To my reviewers..._

 _ME_ : Welcome to the story! Thanks for your review! Rois and her brother came over to America from Ireland in and about 1890, after the Great Famine and the Civil War conflicts when many many many irish people were living in poverty. As so many did, they came over to America. Rois and Eoghan's mother died on the voyage. When they landed, their father began boxing, incurred many debts that he left on his children when he was arrested. he never came back for them.

 _Bea.t11:_ Aw, thanks so much! I'm glad you like the direction this is going! Rois is a toughie, but that doesn't mean she doesn't like traditionally girlie things either, and considering the time period it was almost impossible she didn't know how to sew, cook, etc.

 _Jaywing25_ : Hahahaha! you are so right! spot is definitly fighting the feels right now

 _Guestanewone_ : I'm actually going to do a bit of a strike meets borough conflict thing. so... rois and eoghan will not have a front row seat at the strike but they will be involved with the way the borough relate to one another during that time and ESCPECIALLY after.

 _CallMeWonder_ : They are indeed real songs. I looked up old Irish lullabies and the like. The 'Irish Eyes' one my grandmother used to sing to me when I was little. if you copy the words into the google search bar the website i got them off of should pop up. first option. links dont work on this godforsaken website for some reason. but i totally get where youre coming from. i couldn't carry a tune in a bucket.

 _Succulentie_ :I totally get where you;re coming from its is a little boring rn, its a little bit of a lull between the action so you can see what Rois is up to and how she's fitting in and the dynamics of her and the Brooklyn boys before everything gets all screwy

 _Jean-Moddalle_ : Thank you, as always!

 _HakunaaaMatataaa_ : Stubborn ROis and SPot are coming up! i promise! Next chapter! I'll try and work Czech in a little more. i love him too ;)

* * *

She often sat in that bed and stared up at the ceiling, bored and achy with a shirt or other article of clothing in need of repair in her lap, the needle being twirling between her fingers. She was getting quite tired of sewing- but it was about the only useful thing she could do while bedridden. This time it was Bait's ketchup stained blue striped collared shirt she was sewing the pocket back onto and fixing the hem- he'd asked he last night, during the storm if she could fix it and of course, she said yes.

Sometimes, when she lay like that, bored and humming to herself, he'd appear- casual and smirking, those piercing blue eyes that could be so cold always dancing in the dim lighting.

He'd ask her about her day, well-aware it was boring and filled with sleep and verbal sparring with Czech. The two did not quite see eye to eye, but had found mutual respect and enjoyment in prodding each other with words until one folded, only to begin the sparring again the following day.

He, however, was always a calming presence. He seemed so content. So sure of his place.

She couldn't help but be drawn to that. She knew who she was… but she'd never been that content or sure in her life. She'd always been searching, always been looking for something more.

"You didn't mention you could sing," he smirked as he entered the room. It didn't feel so empty when he was there, somehow he filled the space, all by himself.

She was taken aback, "Sing!" Sure, she sang to Eoghan when he was younger, when he had nightmares… and she'd sung for him, Bait and Legs last night, during the thunderstorm. A few folk songs she remembered her parents used to sing- about love and Ireland, but no- He had heard. Of course he had. "I- I don't…"

"It wasn't bad," he cut her off with a shrug.

She figured that was a compliment. "Tanks…"

"Got one for me?"

"I-" she stuttered. "Now?"

He found it amusing, how much easier she was to fluster than she'd been a few weeks ago. She was more herself, less guarded and more open now that she wasn't fighting for her life.

He liked it, how easy it was to talk to her. And hated it because he shouldn't!

He shouldn't want to talk to her like he does, shouldn't want to open up like does. He shouldn't want her around, shouldn't like having her here, but he does. But she's not a part of this life. She wasn't a newsie. She was a fighter.

But maybe she could still belong.

"Sing me a song, Dollface," he smiled, sitting at the foot of her bed, leaned up against the wall, the sun setting outside. He looked relaxed.

So she rolled her eyes. "Got one in mind, mo rí?" There was a small smile on her face.

Spot realized she was teasing him and with a short burst of laughter, told her to pick.


	28. Chapter 28

A/N: Short chapter, but a bit more action. next one will be out later today don't you worry. As I said previously the strike will be coming up around chapter 30, it won't last too long. Probably only five or six chapters, then we'll be moving on to post-strike and new struggles arising.

 _To my faithful reviewers:_

 _Jean-Moddalle:_ Thanks for your continued support and continuous reviews :)

 _HakunaaaaMatataaaa:_ Your wish is my command! Another chapter for you viewing pleasure :)

 _Viola_ : Thanks for your review! Like I said above, the strike is probably not going to be very long, only a few chapters but they will be longer chapters (probably, i admit, i'm not always very grand at keeping to my own schedule)

 _Succulentie_ : You are so right about that last chapter. It is a little confusing. i didn't realize before, probably cause i knew who i was talking about in my head, but i didn't translate that well to writing. Thank you so much for pointing that out! lemme know what you think of this shortie and the next one.

* * *

At the end of the week, Czech had decreed she be allowed out of bed in small intervals, with assistance. She still hadn't spoken to her brother about the argument. They hadn't spoken much at all recently, aside from the occasional song. It seemed to be weighing on her. She hadn't been able to seek him out because she hadn't been able to get out of bed, instead condemned to worry in bed all day. When she fell asleep, the boy would duck his head in and check on her before leaving again.

Spot hadn't interfered.

Eoghan had been learning to stand on his own to feet. And that wasn't a bad thing.

Spot had a few of the boys checking in on her now and then, to keep her company, get her food and water, etc. Czech, who didn't seem to get along with the girl for some reason, Red, Pick and Skiff had been her main company, though Bait and Legs often stopped by to talk to her, usually bringing torn-up or ripped clothing for her to stitch, be it theirs or an older boy's. She told them stories, sung them songs, and though they were usually a bit off-key, it was a pleasant sound the whole of the lodging house had come to enjoy. As she sang, Eoghan would sit outside the door and listen- damn anyone who dared comment.

She'd been there a bit over two weeks- injured as she was she hadn't paid the lodging dues. Spot wasn't going to ask her to. Shed asked about it early on, said she couldn't possibly take their food. Spot had told her to shut up and eat, he'd take care of it.

"Brooklyn doesn't take no freeloaders," Digger proclaimed- the conversation downstairs having been more of an argument about the current resident of Spot's chambers.

"She's hurt," Yo-Yo defended hotly.

"What do you wanna do, Digs?" Red asked, eyes narrowed sharply. "T'row her out on da streets?" His tone of voice suggested he thought the other boy to be a few eggs short of a dozen.

The eyes that made Spot Conlon famous slid to the bulky newsie as he stepped down the stairs, gold tipped cane in hand. The room fell silent as the crowd parted to allow Spot a straight shot at Digger. "Problem?" The king asked. Digger grit his teeth and shook his head, eyes falling to the floor. It was the sort of one sided conversation in which Spot's cold blue eyes demanded absolute compliance and the onlooker had two options- obedience or disgrace. Digger opted for obedience- effectively avoiding a soaking. "I suggest thinking before youse speak, Digger," Spot began, "Or you might land yourself in some trouble." It was clear exactly what kind of trouble that would be.

The king nodded and looked around the room, "Anyone else?" No one said a word. "Alright."

As Spot turned to talk to Pick, chatter started up again and the boys rested easy once more.


	29. Chapter 29

**A/N:** Okiedoke, so I missed my self-imposed deadline... but here's the next chap folks. Longer this time. Lemme know what you think.

 _I'll answer reviews on the next chapter._

* * *

Spot entered the room to see Bait asleep at the foot of her bed. He questioned her with his eyes, not sure if he was surprised she was awake or not.

"He had a nightmare," she whispered.

He nodded. But of course, Bait was a proud and ambitious little boy. He wanted to prove he was strong and capable and tough. He wanted to be like Spot- unbreakable- and he couldn't do that if he was having nightmares. He wouldn't talk to the other boys, they'd think him weak. So he went to Rois, who was kind to him, sang him songs, was missing her brother, and didn't view tears as a weakness.

"Bait," she whispered, rubbing the boy's back. "Bait."

The boy woke with a groan and started at seeing Spot. He immediately hopped off the bed and began apologizing. "Spot, I-!"

"It's alright, Bait," He almost-smiled. "You can stay with Rois if she lets ya. But you've a job today… get to it," he ushered the boy along. He and the other small boys were accompanying Pick at the market today, buying the food for the lodging house.

"Bye, Storeen," she smiled as the boy hops off the bed, blushing a bit and racing for the door. It's an Irish term, he thinks, something about 'little'. She looks better than she did days ago, her eyes bright and her skin returning to a healthy kind of pale. She could sit up in bed now, as long as she was careful.

She looked… awfully domestic, sitting there in his bed, wearing one of his few button up shirts and smiling lazily at him. "What's the story, mo rí?" A twinkle in her eye said whatever name she had given him she felt was comical. He couldn't place it but he was sure she'd said it before. He wondered what it meant.

He was too proud to ask what it meant. "Feeling up for a walk?" he asked her instead.

"Ya gonna be ma escort?" she laughed.

He rolled his eyes, and turned to leave, knowing she'd stop him. She'd use any excuse to get up and moving at this point.

"Wait!" she called, turning carefully and throwing her legs over the side of the bed. "I wanna go!"

He smirked, offering a hand as he turned back to balance her as she stood- wobbly at first, still a bit unused to using the muscles again. She wore a long skirt over the button down, looking every bit as beautiful as that day on the docks. Except this time, she clutched his hand and arm as they walked, using him as her rock.

He helped her carefully down the stairs, one at a time, watching the scrunch of her nose- the motion pulled at her bruises, at her ribs. She needed the movement, though, needed some fresh air.

This was a test. She'd been getting better. Her bruises had faded to a slightly discolored yellow, her shoulder had regained full movement, and the swelling and bruising on her face had healed, leaving her pretty and bored upstairs in his bed. Czech had given her the 'go ahead' for short walks around the lodging house to exercise her unused limbs as long as she had an accompaniment. Usually Red or Pick helped her up and over to the boys room where she hung around the younger boys and played their games.

She'd been bugging him to let her outside.

He'd been keeping an eye on the men from her former fighting ring. His birdies had spotted them around a few times and he was leary of letting her out. She'd said they'd come after her. He had a feeling she wouldn't go willingly. He could admit he didn't want to see her hurt.

So, he gave her a bed and roof over her head and planned on keeping her there.

It was hot out today, and the breeze on the docks was light, and the sky was blue and he had an inkling she'd like to go out. He could protect her there.

"Where we goin'?" she asked him as she reached the bottom, once again hooking her hand around the crook of his arm. It bothered him, usually, when girls sidled up to him like that- hooking their arms around his and 'accidentally' brushing their bosoms against his arms or chest. But she was somehow not so bothersome. She did it innocently- hooked her hand around his arm and held on loosely, so as not to lose him as her eyes soaked in the surroundings. She did not hold on tight, she did not press herself against him, she simply stood close by, and spoke in that lowly lilting voice, green eyes shining brightly up at him.

"Docks," he answered shortly.

"Really?" she asked brightly. She looked younger, wilder, and happier as she walked alongside him, one hand tucked around his arm. She still limped slightly, but she was stronger now.

"Really," he smirked, his lips quirking upward in amusement.

She narrowed her eyes at him, but there was a smile on her lips that said she wasn't annoyed or angry, and that she too thought it amusing. "How was sellin'?" She asked him. She often asked that question, and though his answers were sometimes vague, every now and again he'd graced her with an actual answer and a story. Sometimes he'd even smile.

Like now.

He grinned in that way where his lips were still pressed together, but the corner of his mouth pulled up and his eyes sparkled as he looked down at her. "Your brother had an interesting selling day."

Her smile dropped at the amused tone of his voice. "What? What happened?"

He laughed at her and when she frowned darkly and opened her mouth to yell at him, he smiled, all blue eyes and dimples. "Relax Dollface," he told her, "Kid's fine. Ms Kitty and 'er girls bought a few papes off 'im, told him ta stop by da lounge, thought he was cute."

"She-" Her eyes widened comically.

"He was mortified," Spot laughed.

She had to smile at the way his face lit up. He looked younger when he smiled like that. She would've kicked herself for so blatantly watching him if she cared enough, but at the moment, all she could think about was that smile on his face. When did he become so important? She wasn't sure, but as he slid one arm behind her and guided her through the Brooklyn streets while being mindful of her injuries and keeping her to the inside of the street where she couldn't be jostled about, she was glad to have met him.


	30. Chapter 30

**A/N: I'm so sorry this took so long. Life has been a mess. I wasn't home for a while and the third MP ended and Spring break was busy as all hell and Prom is tomorrow and AP tests are coming up... I lost my place a bit, but I'm back now! thought this chapter is super fluffy.**

I'll respond to all your amazing and wonderful reviews next update. I love you all, thanks so much for reading and responding!

Also, thanks to all who have favorited or followed me or this story. This one's for you guys!

* * *

 _~...she was glad to have met him.~_

Spot was quick to claim his throne atop the crates piled high on the dilapidated pier. The boys had gathered here after selling. It was getting cold out- the hot summer days of the strike seeming so long ago. But it was strangely hot today and the boys were quick to take advantage of the late September heat wave. They stripped their shirts -some their pants as well- and plunged into the water.

She didn't blush or stutter. She didn't stare, nor did she avert her eyes. She was comfortable there, aside the newsboys of Brooklyn, no matter their state of dress. They were rough and tumble, eager to fight, quick to anger, and a bit obnoxious, but for the most part, they were just little boys. The littlest ones were harmless- innocent in their intent and desperate for a little bit of love. The older ones were just as attention-starved, though they were loath to admit it.

Bait yelled her name, a beaming smile on the small and bony boy's cherub cheeked face. At his high-pitched yell the other looked too, surprised upticks to their lips.

She laughed, ducking her head away from the sudden attention, a light pink blush settling over her face as she reached to fiddle with the gold rings hanging from a string around her neck. Funny he thought, how sweet she seemed now, when just weeks ago she'd been spitting blood and glaring at opponents through her boy-length bangs. Still, she sat with Pick and his little board game near the edge of the docks and paid attention as he taught her the rules no other newsie bothered to. He swore he saw her roll her eyes, but he couldn't be sure.

He willfully tore his eyes away from her, determined not to stare. Digger was missing. Frenchy, Yo-Yo and Skiff were splashing around in the water with a few others, Eoghan and Bones among. Legs was spending the day in Manhattan. Czech had gone with him.

When his eyes once again sought her out, she was closer to him, at the end of the docks stacked high with abandoned shipments, boxes piled high. She was walking towards him, but stopped short of the end, grabbing hold of her skirts as she bent at the knee and picked something up off of the wooden pier. When she held it up, it harshly reflected the light of the sun. he had to blink. She met his eyes then with a devious sort of smile and slowly climbed his box-made throne. At the top, slightly out of breath, she bent forward and presented a shiny almost white marble with a knowing grin.

He felt the urge to smile, something pulling at the corner of his lips.

"A little birdie told me you Brooklyn boys like shootin' marbles," she said softly, eyebrows slightly raised in amusement.

He raised an eyebrow, catching the double-meaning as his hand gently covered her own. Since when did she know about his informants? He took the marble from between her fingers and said, "You'll haveta learn, Dollface, if youse is stayin'.

Her eyebrows rose, a tentative smile arising, "Are ya askin' me ta stay?"

His lips pressed into a line and he offered no response.

Sighing, she unceremoniously tilted and sat herself down on the box right next to him, ignoring the unspoken rules for the throne. He straightened, but the way her suddenly very green eyes slid over to his said she knew and she just didn't care.

He shook his head, and when he didn't turn to reprimand her, she laughed softly, lightly. It reminded him of the metal windchimes the old lady a few house down from the lodging home had- a sort of musical could tell she was getting tired. Before he could ask if she wanted to go back to the lodging house, she laid her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes.

It spoke volumes. He couldn't help but allow himself one, small, semi-concealed, genuine smile, when the tough little fighted from the worst part of brooklyn let her head and her guard down on his shoulders. He liked her like his, somehow unbreakably soft. She was all tough witty little quips, humor, soft pretty smiles, and… she trusted him.

She laid her head on his shoulder and smiled, feeling… safe.


	31. Chapter 31

**A/N:** Wow. School's out. I'm done. Meaning I'm also back to writing. Sorry for the hiatus, I didn't mean to leave you all hanging, but I'm back now with more chapters. As of this moment, I'm working on a broken laptop, but I'm getting a new one in two weeks so we'll be good to go.

I love you all, thanks for sticking with me!

* * *

 _~She laid her head on his shoulder and smiled, feeling… safe.~_

In light of her recent successes -sitting up, walking on her own, getting down the stairs without having to stop midway through, actually punching Digger in the throat when he called her a whore, thought that had set her back a bit in the healing process- Czech had tentatively declared her healed. No strenuous activity, but she reluctantly being released.

She had grinned widely at him, a strange gleam in her eyes that he found both startlingly pretty and a bit worrisome. Immediately, she insisted on a job. She was all all healed up and she was through being dead-weight. She was fully capable of supporting herself and she didn't want to be indebted to anyone, not even Spot, especially when she could be paying him back for everything he'd done for her.

This, of course, sent her brother into a fit. "Just stay here!" the small newsboy yelled, "I can sell enough papes to pay the both of our lodgin' fees!"

"Yer not payin' fer me," she said defiantly, green eyes flashing with determination. She had too much pride to sit down and let him do the work. She was his elder sister. It was her job to take care of him, not the other way around.

"You're not leaving," Spot settled the argument quickly, his crisp, clear, and utterly decisive voice cut through their argument easier than a hot knife through butter.

"I'm not hurt anymore," she said as calmly as was possible while she fumed inside, her pride flaring. She wasn't some damsel in need of protection. He'd saved her, and she was thankful, but that didn't mean he suddenly had control over her. She wasn't one of his newsies. She wasn't… technically, she wasn't anything to him. "Ya got no reason to keep me here, an if I'm stayin' I'm not lettin' youse foot ta bill anymore… I can pay for myself."

He rolled his eyes at the underlying heat in her words. "Your not goin' back to the fights-"

"I'm not stupid, Spot," she cut him off. His blue eyes blazed in anger at the interruption.

"An factories are dangerous for pretty little girls like you," he continued. His words were true if said with a bit more contempt than would have been polite, "and you ain't gettin' no seamstress job with that cute little irish brogue a' yours."

"Irish need not apply," signs were still all to prominent in any sought after position in the city- small and safe positions for young women like seamstress, maid and laundress included.

"So," he continued, his voice firm and uncompromising, "Youse is gonna stay right here and you'll work in exchange for stayin'."

Her teeth clicked when she ground her teeth, glaring hotly at him with everything she had. "You can't make me stay."

"You ain't allowed ta leave," her brother snapped, glaring at his older sister until her locked jaw unclenched and she shook her head.

"Fine." He'd take that fiery anger in her eyes over the deadened fog that had resided there when he'd found her beaten any day.

"Good," Spot ginned, looking more than a little smug and victorious. If Eoghan weren't there she was sure she'd have slapped that stupid smirk off his face and punched him in the nose, but she wouldn't. She didn't. Instead, she glared daggers at him, which only made his smirk wider as her lip curled in frustration. "You'll start tomorrow then- boys'll drop off any clothes that need mending and you can git started on cleaning up the place. Soap and stuff under the sink downstairs."

In her head she was quite clearly telling him to he could take that 'soap and stuff' and shove it up his arse for all the good it would do in her hands.


	32. Chapter 32

_~In her head she was quite clearly telling him to he could take that 'soap and stuff' and shove it up his arse for all the good it would do in her hands.~_

She was rather horrible at cleaning.

Wiping down the counters and rinsing out the sinks, dusting the window sills and scrubbing the admittedly filthy mud-streaked floorboards was mind-numbingly boring. And if Digger asked her to polish his shoes one more time he was gonna have a real problem on his hands.

She sucked up her pride and dipped the brush back into the soapy water, scrubbing again at the floor. She knew the boys slept on the ground when the beds were full, which was more often than not, so… they needed this. And it made sense for her to do it, staying here like she was. But she wanted free reign. She wanted to go out again without feeling restricted or bound. She felt safe here… but being safe shouldn't cost her her freedom, should it?

She sighed, sitting back on her heels and raising a hand to thread a piece of hair that had fallen back into the bandana tied around her head that kept her still just-too-short-for-a-useful-ponytail hair out of her face while she worked.

The boys should be trickling in about now, she thought. They left bright and early this morning to sell the morning edition of the _Brooklyn Daily Eagle_ and had been gone all morning. If they had a few extra pennies they sometimes stopped at that diner for lunch, Ray's, but the others stopped by cheap street vendors or came back the lodging house to scramble for snacks in the pantry.

Maybe she could make them something. That'd be nice, right?

Rinsing off her hands with the rest of the sudsy cleaning water, she made her way to the kitchen. She hummed to herself as she searched, but the cupboard was bare aside from a stack of slightly mushy apples, salt, a bit of sugar, and a container of steel oats.

She didn't notice Spot in the doorway, leaning on the frame. He had his arms crossed over loosely over his chest as he watched her, a half-eaten apple in one hand and a small paper bag hanging from the other.

"Flour… baking soda…" she mumbled.

His lips quirked upward as she talked to herself.

"Can make some bread then… some meat and spices… for soup…"

She was planning meals, he noted with slight shock. He hadn't expected her to take so well to the housekeeper position he'd thrust upon her. He didn't think she would adapt so quickly or so well. She was feeling cramped and bored, he knew, but here she was, blue bandana in her hair, the lodging house looking better than it had in… hell, he didn't know. It looked spick and span, and here she was looking in the cupboards. "Hungry?" he asked suddenly, his voice breaking the silence.

She jumped, eyes wide as she turned, backing herself against the counter. "Spot," she said, her racing heart calming slightly when it was only him. "I… I can make some bread… for the boys," she said, shutting the cupboard doors. "I just have to make a run to the market… baking soda, spices, if I can get a bit of meat I can make soup too," she rambled.

"Write it down an I'll get one a' the boys to pick it up for ya," he said, setting the brown bag on the table and pushing it towards her. "The boys are up the street some- German guy was selling pretzels at half-price today. Got ya one."

"I-" she stopped herself from rebuking him for spending money on her. "Thank ya," she took the pretzel out of the bag and hopped up on the small table while she ate. Spot leaned on it beside her, taking another bite of the yellowed apple. "But I _can_ go shoppin' myself," she said pointedly. "I do know my way around the market if ya can believe it."

His jaw clenched for a moment, waiting for her to attack his decision, but she didn't. She only eyed him sideways and smiled a little, eyebrows raised at him. He shook his head.

"I can't stay here every minute of every day," she told him seriously, her smile dropping.

"You can come ta the docks with the rest a the boys," he shrugged.

"Spot," she scolded. He knew that's not what she meant. He didn't respond. "Milis," she began, a sweet uptick to her voice as she called him by a small term of endearment, "I'm grateful… t'at ya helped me… an' I wanna stay. I- I like it here. Eoghan likes it here. But I'm gonna go crazy stuck in here, Spot. Now," she said, more strongly, "I can go all by my lonesome... Or you can come with me," she grinned, all white teeth and dancing eyes.

He glared at her, but she was unperturbed, only blinking at him blankly as she broke off another piece of the pretzel and popped it in her mouth.

"I'm goin' tomorrow," she told him, "An' if ye don't come, I'll get Red ta help me pay for everythin'," she said.

His glare turned to ice, his teeth grinding together in his mouth as his jaw clenched.

She only sighed, handing him back the last few bites of the pretzel. "Thank you… again." then she left.

Red had never seen anyone wear Spot down. Ever. Spot Conlon was unwavering in his decisions, but Rois had done it with nothing but a few accented words and the flutter of her eyelashes. He was in awe.

He also thought it was hilarious.

The newsie king followed her inside carrying with a few bags of flour, and a head of greens. Combined with the only slightly mushy apples the nuns had given them, and the plethora of strange ingredients Red saw Rois carry in, it looked like Spot was fixin' to have her feed the whole lodging house.

Bout time those lodgin' fees went to something good, he thought.

The next morning, the newsies awoke a few minutes before their normal time, a strange and wonderful smell from the kitchen slowly waking each and every one of them. "What's that smell?"

"I dunno. Someone actually usin' the kitchen?"

"Can't be"

"Gotta be"

"Red said Dollface went to the market wit Spot the otter day."

Just then, the five boys from upstairs cam racing down the steps- Bait at the front and Eoghan slowly taking up the rear. "My sister made breakfast," he told them with a small smile.

Suddenly every boy in the house was scrambling to get dressed and get food.

She stood behind the counter, in a button-down Spot had given her and a ratty blue skirt, cutting warm loaves into slices and spreading a bit of jam on each before handing it to each lined up newise- each with their own unique form of a thank you. At least until Spot sauntered in, hat on his head and faded red suspenders in place as he dodged the line and slipped behind the counter to stand next to her.

"Bread smells good, Dollface," he smirked. "How's it taste?"

"Ask your newsies," she said wryly watching as he reached for the loaf of bread. Like a flash, she swatted his hand away and slathered a bit of jam on the current piece before giving it to Yo-Yo, who couldn't help but grin at the momentarily dumbfounded look on Spot's face. "Get in line, you budger," she laughed.

"Doll, I'm the king," he raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging at his lips as he took the next piece anyway, dodging the half-hearted elbow she jutted out at him in joking retaliation and grinned around his food when she rolled her eyes.

It was a routine they fell into easily. In the morning she and Spot woke before the others, she baked the boys breakfast while he dozed by the table, when the boys woke and scrambled to eat she cleaned up as best she could before they left.


	33. Chapter 33

**A/N:** Hey! I'm back with more chapters! Let me know what you think!

 _and in response to to your lovely reviews (sorry for the delay)..._

 _DreamDancer: I'm so glad you love the story! Keep reviewing, I'd love to know what you like best_

 _Hakunaaaa Matataaaa: AHHHH I missed you! Sorry I haven't posted in a while! Thank you so much for updating!_

 _Jean-Moddalle: OMG I'm so happy you loved chapter 31 so much! What was it that made you like it so much?_

 _Succulentie: LOL, I know the chapters are short. Sorry. I love that you like Czech so much. He is a side character so I can't guarantee he'll be in a lot, but you may yet be able to convince me to give him a one-shot of his own ;)_

 _Guest: thanks for the review! leave a name next time?_

 _Viola: Thank you for reading :) I'm glad you like it so much!_

 _Guestanewone: You are so sweet, thanks for reviewing and checking for updates and I'm so glad you like where the story is going._

 _Rosie: Ohmygosh that was so sweet! Thank you so much! Let me know what you think of this chapter._

 _shurg'tul: Hahahaha, They will, I promise, it's coming!_

 _Jaywing25: Haha, thanks for the review!_

* * *

 _~It was a routine they fell into easily. In the morning she and Spot woke before the others, she baked the boys breakfast while he dozed by the table, when the boys woke and scrambled to eat she cleaned up as best she could before they left.~_

Boys gone off selling for the day, he decided today was as good as any to take Rois to Medda's. Her use of his shirts and socks had left him with little to no clothing and those two skirts she kept switching between were damn near worn though, even the patches looked like they were ready to fall apart.

Medda always had extra. He had no doubt the Swedish Meadowlark at Irving Hall, the theatre she owned in Manhattan, would take one look at Rois's understated good-looks and bury her in fabric. It also bought him time to see how Cowboy and the Manhattan boys were doing. 'Cowboy' or Jack Kelly was almost as famous as Spot Conlon as far as newsies went. Spot liked to keep tabs on the charismatic manhattaner. Plus, Racetrack owed him a few pennies from their last card game.

"How do you feel about a stroll to Manhattan?" he smirked as he opened the door to their shared room. She grinned, swinging her legs off of the bed and following him out the door.

"Kingly business between boroughs, I assume?" she asked in the haughtiest voice she could manage.

He rolled his eyes, "Ya know-"

"I knowse," she grinned, leaning ever so slightly into him as she laughed, "If Ise was anyone else I'd get soaked for a comment like dat."

He fixed her with a hard look, but the straight line of his mouth was hard to maintain and she could see the smile trying to peek through.

"Admit it, mo rún, you like having me around." She called him 'her secret', not that he knew. Lying in that room she'd found herself looking forward to his visits, even just seeing a glimpse of him through the slightly open door when he passed by. He'd become something of her saving grace, of her safe place. And somewhere along the way she'd come to care for the newsie leader- of course, it was a bad idea, and she knew she was only hurting herself, but she'd always been one to dive in head first and that was unlikely to change. A broken heart had never deterred her before.

"To my regret," he said.

She scoffed, swatting lightly at his arm, basking in the cool breeze. "Jerk," she laughed.

He smiled, content to walk with her- newsies pushed to the back of his mind, just for this moment.

She paused on the Brooklyn bridge, letting go of his arm to drift over the side and stare out at the dark water below. It churned and splashed far beneath them. Spot followed behind her, just a few feet, one eye on his surroundings and one eyes on her.

She still moved stiffly, still carefully, but the sun shined off her pale skin and the breeze in her hair blew the bonny brown waves around behind her. She was still pretty, basking in the beauty of the water below.

She appreciated little things like that. Some things he'd come to take for granted.

"I've never met a Manhattan newsie," she told him, leaning back against the metal and letting him close in on her. "They at all like you Brooklyn boys?"

"Brooklyn's tougher than any borough in New York," he assured her, his ego making an appearance.

"Brooklyn's tougher," she smirked, green eyes looking up at him wryly. "Or you are, mo rùn?" she laughed at her own words- a bit of a tease, a bit of a flirt. The nickname rolled off her tongue easily, like she'd been calling him that all her life.

"One in the same, Dollface."

"Da name's catchin' ya now," she commented. "Dollface," she said, mimicking his accent in a teasing way. "Ya got all the boys callin' me that now."

He grinned.

She shoved at his chest. "It ain't funny!" she protested.

"All newsies get nicknames," he told her with a small smile, "You think my name's actually Spot? Or any of the others… Bait? Yo-Yo? Pi-"

"I knowse ya'll had nicknames, jus' didn' know I'd be gettin' one a' me own," she laughed and shook her head. "Dollface," she repeated, "What's 'at supposed ta mean anyhows?"

He shrugged, "Got a pretty face, goilie, that's all it means."

She shook her head, eyes falling from his. "Ma face is usually beat ta hell."

He set careful fingers beneath her chin and raised her eyes to his. "Still pretty," he commented, "Just tough."

"Ya shouldn't say t'ings like that ta a girl, Spotty-boy," she laughed lightly, gently batting his hand off of her as a faint blush creeped up her neck. "Give 'er _ideas_ and da like..." It was a tease. But there was more than a bit of truth behind it all. She quite liked Spot. And she rather thought he liked her too, but he was hard to read and she'd not push. He was kind to help her out and she was not one to take advantage. Earlier she'd thought of leaving, taking a job somewhere and making herself scarce- Eoghan got along fine without her. In fact, he had been avoiding her! And Spot didn't need the extra baggage she carried with her. But he didn't let her leave, he set her up real nice at the lodging house… and she was making a difference there. Food in the boy's bellies, a clean place to sleep. She couldn't imagine leaving them now, leaving him now.

He offered her his arm, gesturing to continue their trek to Manhattan. "A girl like youse already got _ideas_ ," he whispered, a familiar sparkle in those crystalline eyes of his.

"What's t'at supposed ta mean, mo run?" she asked with suspiciously raised eyebrows, noting he had flirted back without hesitation.

"Yer smart," he smirked. "Figure it out."

She rolled her eyes, though the remark she had readied on the tip of her tongue died when she spotted the burly man across the street, headed towards a car parked in front of them. Snyder, Spot recognized, hackles rising. She froze where she stood, Spot having to backtrack a few steps when she did not follow at his side- freezing instead of hiding. "'E worked with da boys at da ring," she explained. "Bet on da fights… threw 'em. Always knew who' gonna win."

Spot's lips thinned. Of course Snyder bet on fixed fights.

"When da kids couldn' fight no more 'e took em somewhere… I think 'e send 'em ta the refuge," she finished quietly.

His jaw clenched, at the glinting bit of fear in her eyes. Girls didn't go to the refuge. Girls went upstate- some sort of correctional facility meant to turn 'em into proper young ladies. He didn't know if that worked, or anything about it really. He'd only known one girl who got caught… and he never saw her again. If Rois'd been caught, if they'd decided she wasn't enough, Rich and Walt would have sent her brother off to the refuge and she'd never have seen him again. "You're right," he said, "That's Snyder. He runs the refuge. Best steer clear of him, girlie," he glanced down at her as the older man entered the car, which started not a moment after he closed the door and with a roar of the engine headed further into town.

"'E wouldn't recognize me like this," she shook her head and gestured to the skirt. "Don't much matter anyway. He was never our biggest problem. Rich and Walt had da monopoly on us… me," she told him quietly, all humor from earlier absent from her face. "It was just us… sides some Brassers comin' in an out…" she paused, lips thinning. "I probably coulda made more money doin that," she admitted, "but I wasn't… I amn't…"

"'Ey," Spot interrupted, gripping onto the hand clutching at his arm. "Ya don't have ta. Yer safe with us at the lodging house. I ain't gonna make ya leave," he told her firmly, but quietly. His blue eyes locked firmly onto hers- the sunkissed tan of his skin clashing with her pearly complexion. "As long as I'm Brooklyn, yer welcome there," he said. The words were uncharacteristically gentle.

She looked up at him, there was a pain in her rounded eyes. She was suspicious, and she hated that. He'd been nothing but generous and underneath it all he was actually rather sweet in a bit of a rough way. She knew she really really liked the boy, but in the back of her mind, all she could think was- "What is it ya want from me?" the words were soft, almost unwillingly spoken.

His eyes searched her face, as if the answer would be hidden there- in the depths of her eyes, the the length of her lashes, the curve of her lips and the bend in her nose, in the small smattering of light freckles across her nose, and the tiny imperfections that marred her smooth skin. But it wasn't.

He didn't know, he realized.

"What are ya lookin' for?" she asked him gently.

Spot didn't know what he wanted from her. At first, he wanted her on his side, a female fighter, an unsuspecting birdie, the perfect spy, he thought. He thought she'd be an asset. But then she was hurt, and she was vulnerable, and she sang to his boys, and stitched their clothes and- he didn't want her to leave! Dammit, somehow she'd endeared herself to him.

For once, the King was speechless. He could not say what he thought, as it would be admitting to weakness. Spot Conlon was indestructible, after all… or so they thought. And he had to keep up pretenses.

She noticed his struggle. She considered letting it drop, letting it go and just continuing on. He'd proven himself an ally, why should she interrogate him? But she already cared for him far more than she should, and she already decided it didn't matter. She wasn't going to push him away. She was going to stand by his side instead- consequences be damned. If Rich and Walt came after her… she'd kill 'em. She was done being a toy. She was done being their prisoner. She was… well she wasn't quite sure yet but if nothing else, she was herself. And she liked the newsie leader, for all his heavy-handedness and ruthless reputation.

But if she was to stay, like she wanted, she simply had to be sure. "I like ya, Spot," she grinned a little bitter sweetly. "I'm on yer side," she assured him. "I just-"

His jaw was clenched, eyes narrowed as he gripped her arm. "You ain't leavin'," he almost demanded. "You can't." His hand held onto her just enough so that she would not turn away, just enough to keep her there, facing him.

She supposed that was as close as asking her to stay as he would get. "So you'd like me to stay then?" she smiled in such a way that it was evident she never had any intention of really leaving.

She wanted to stay.


	34. Chapter 34

A/N: Sorry babes, this one is a little shorter. Its a fun one though!

 _Hakunaaaa Matataaaa: I'm exited to see what you think of this one so let me know when you've read it :)_

 _Guestanewone: That means so much to me! Ohmygosh, I'm so glad you loved the last chapter!_

 _Succlentie: Ohmygosh, your review made my whole week! It was so amazing! I have my character interact a lot through looks and movements, because that's how I feel a lot of people interact in real life. I feel it makes the story more intimate, the characters closer. Like, I'm not going to tell my best friend I think the store clerk we're talking to is creepy, I'm going to look at her and sort of raise my eyebrows and make a face and tilt my head towards him and see what she thinks. As for Spot and Rois both holding back... Spot's a stubborn bastard. No way around that. We just love him anyway. Rois is still figuring out her place in the newsies world, I think. She cares about him and she's totally down for more, but she'd not gonna push him or prod at him about it. She's comfortable where things are and she knows she has time. About Czech :), I have some ideas... I'll shoot you a PM when they're more concrete._

 _Jaywing25: Your review mad me laugh a lot. It was so sweet! I LOVED THAT YOU PICKED OUT A LINE TO SHOW ME! I went back and read it and was like 'THAT ONE, JAYWING25 LIKED THAT ONE, OHMYGOD!' and got all happy. Let me know what you think of this chapter!_

 _Emmalicious: Hahahahaaha- they're getting there, I promise!_

* * *

 _~She wanted to stay.~_

He rolled his eyes. She was a little manipulative, he thought but it wasn't as much of a turn off as he thought it'd be. She laughed a little at the small slip of emotion- the slight irritation on his features. Then said, "Brooklyn and the Manhattan boys are friends t'en," she asked, changing the subject for him and wanting to be sure of the relationship between the boroughs.

He was grateful for the new topic. He nodded, "We're on good terms. Manhattan's a bit different, but they're good kids," he told her. "Cowboy is the borough leader."

"Cowboy?" she laughed.

Spot shrugged, "Gotta hat, bandana, thing for the West. Just go with it, Doll. His name's Jack Kelly."

She laughed at the almost annoyed expression on his face as he described the other newsie and looped her hand through the crook of his arm, wondering when she began to feel this comfortable around him. He didn't push her away. She thought he might actually have smiled a bit, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards as he changed the subject. "You're not goin' there anyway."

"I'm amn't?" she asked, wondering if she should be offended or confused.

"I'm droppin' ya off at the theatre. Owner's a friend a the newsies," he explained. "She'll help ya get some clothes a' your own."

"What're you gonna do?" she asked.

"I'll be back to pick ya up, Dollface," he grinned at the way her face pinched at the nickname.

She rolled her eyes, "Fine, don't tell me. I'll just figure it out later."

"It's nothing important," he rolled his eyes guiding her around the bustling streets of Manhattan. "Couple a Manhattan newsies owe me a few pennies is all."

She raised an eyebrow and shrugged, "Don' soak anyone too bad."

"Tha's rich comin' from you."

"I-" she began slightly indignant but mostly amused. She was cut off by a loud voice ahead of them.

"Is dat the King of Brooklyn, Ise see?" a thick New York accent sang as the King and the Irish girl passed the corner on the way to Irving Hall.

"Kid," the Brooklyn Leader greeted with a nod.

"Nice a' you to visit," the blonde boy laughed. "And wit such pretty company." His single eye -the other being covered by a black eyepatch- roamed over Rois with a look somewhere between curiosity and pleasant surprise.

"This is Rois," Spot introduced stiffly. She almost laughed, but thought better than to undermine his surly reputation. He'd surely snap at her for teasing him in the open. He had a reputation to uphold after all.

"Kid Blink," the blonde identified himself with a playful bow.

"Pleasha'," she grinned, obliging him with a small partial curtsy.

He laughed, smiling at her before turning to Spot. "How's it goin' on the odder side a da bridge?"

Spot nodded, "Better than ever, Kid." he sounded slightly sarcastic, his voice making it clear that Kid had no business asking. Brooklyn was Brooklyn's problem. Butt out.

The blond got the message and quickly nodded concedingly. "Race was still at Sheepshead last I knew," kid informed him. "Probably spendin' whatever 'e owes you." Racetrack was one of the only newsies in existence capable of pissing off the newsie King without getting pummeled. If King's could have friends, Spot's was Racetrack. "And Jack's skirtin' Snyda'. Bastard was up and runnin' round today."

"Yeah, I saw 'im earlier. Left in that fancy car a' his few minutes ago."

"Bastard," Kid spit. "The boys and I are meetin' at Tibby's soon if youse is comin'," he said, "Can bring yer date an' all," he laughed. Then, he smiled at Rois again. And said, before either of them had the opportunity to correct him, "What's a pretty dame like yous doin' hangin' 'round with this monster?" he laughed.

She snorted a laugh. Spot may be a little scary but he was far from being a monster. "I'm a bit tougher t'an I look," she retorted.

"Whoa-ho-ho," Kid laughed, "Feisty! Where'd you find 'er Spot?"

"Thanks, Blink," Spot nodded without really answering the newsie's question and leading Rois down the street by her arm. She waved back at Blink with her free hand and laughed when he blew her an overly-dramatic kiss- Newsies could be such flirts.

"He was nice," she laughed as they walked away.

Spot rolled his eyes, and ignored the amused smile on her face. "Go 'round the back," he told her as they neared the theatre, waking by the fancy gold painted street sign outside the theatre.

"This place is huge," she commented as he steered her around the entrance to the alley that lead to the back door.

"Wait 'till ya see inside," he grinned.

She stopped before a particularly deep looking puddle in the sinking cobblestone and yelped as he lifted her up by the waist over the puddle. "Spot!" she shouted, clutching at his shirt.

"What?" He asked smugly, setting her down in front of the door as he knocked a few times, shouting, "Medda! Gotta present for ya!" as he dodged her fist. He grinned wryly at the affronted look on Rois's face when he referred to her as a present.

"Spot Conlon, well I'll be!" a high-pitched but sweetly accented voice exclaimed as the door swung open. Rois's mouth fell open slightly at the sight of the elaborately dressed red-headed woman. Medda Larkin was tall and curvy with thick long red hair curled to perfection and pinned in place with large sparkly pins. She had sharp symmetrical features, large bright green eyes, and plump painted red lips. Her cheeks were rosy as she smiled widely at the newsie King. "Where have you been?" she questioned, sweeping her broad, bedazzled green skirt out of the way.

"I been around," he smirked, swinging an arm over Rois's shoulders and dragging her forward. "Brought you a doll."

Rois shot him a hot glare before giving the woman small smile.

"Well aren't you just beautiful!" she gushed, holding her hands out to grab Rois's. Spot laughed to himself at Rois. Unused to the attention, her eyes widened comically and spine stiffened as Medda fawned over her, speaking so fast even he wasn't sure what she was saying until she tapped a finger under the irish girl's chin and exclaimed, "Oh, and such eyes!"

"I was hopin' you could set Rois here up with some clothes," he smiled, knowing she'd say yes.

She swatted at him good-naturedly, "Shame on you for not bringing her earlier! Look at these rags!" She tutted at the state of Rois tattered brown skirt and ushered them inside. "Come dear, we'll find you something pretty to wear."

Rois, still stunned by the expressive kindness of the rather eccentric theatre owner, didn't say a words, lips parted slightly as she swung her eyes to Spot, looking rather unsure.

"Can't stay, Ms. Medda," he smiled, stepping up beside Rois, an arm slung over her shoulders, "Gotta go see Jackie-boy and Racetrack." He shifted his attention to Rois, brushing her growing hair over her shoulder and saying, "I'll be back to pick you up after lunch. We gotta be back in Brooklyn for the evenin' edition." Before he could think better of it, he quickly pressed his lips to her forehead and then darted out of the alley, one hand on his suspenders, the other swinging his golden tipped cane, looking back only to wink when she swung her head to follow him in surprise.

Rois was pleasantly stunned, blushing pink as Medda smirked down at her. "We have a lot to talk about you and I."


	35. Chapter 35

**A/N:** Sorry I was gone so long everyone. I was on vacation. But I'm back now!

 _In response to your reviews..._

 _Guestanewone: I'm glad you liked it. More is on its way!_

 _NightWish373: Hahaha, yeah, Medda is awesome._

 _Jean-Moddalle: As always, thank you very much :)_

 _Viola: Racetrack is in this chapter, don't you worry! I'm so glad you liked Kid! I'm not so great at writing girl talk and I wasn't exactly sure where that conversation should go because Rois hasn't had a prominent female figure in her life since her mother and that was a while ago. So its more Medda noticing things about her while Rois is a little closed off but her usual sweet/sarcastic self._

 _Jaywing25: I love you enthusiasm! It makes my life! Your reviews always make me laugh :) They're getting super close, but both have never really had a relationship like this before so neither are really aware of where its heading, but both have a couple ideas and hops for where they want it to go. I'm so glad you love it! Let me know what you think of this chapter.  
_

 _Succulentie: It was your favorite chapter!? That's awesome, thank you. I'm glad you love the protective/fun/teasing aspect of their relationship. I really just feel that if your going to be with someone, you need to be able to be yourself and have fun with them. Rois and Spot, despite all their hardships and responsibilities, are just kids and they need to be able to feel like it every once in a while. She's adamant that she can take care of herself, but Spot's protectiveness is going to get the better of them sometimes as it already has. He cares about her, and Spot isn't used to caring about girls, so that might come into play as well. As for Czech, I was thinking about doing a little one-shot for you about him or from his point of view about things in Brooklyn. Anyway, let me know what you think of this chapter._

 _Emmalicious: Medda is back in this chapter my friend!_

 _FluffyMarshmallows: Ohmygosh, your review was so sweet! Welcome to the group! I update sporadically, but I do update as often as I am able. I try to respond to all reviews but I appreciate everyone who takes teh time to stop and tell me what they think. Its super encouraging and makes me all warm and fuzzy inside. So stick with me! BTW, Your username is adorable :)  
_

* * *

 _"We have a lot to talk about you and I."_

"Hmm… let's see what we have," she said, her voice strangely musical as she flipped through the dresses hanging from the racks. Rois nodded dumbly, still amazed by the extravagance of their surroundings. Most dresses were flashy and short, covered in rhinestones and glitter. The various chairs around the room were fancy and new with large plush cushions and golden trim. In the corner was a large intricately designed dressing screen.

She was amazed.

Medda smiled at her softly, watching as the girl Spot had brought finally relaxed. The stiff posture she'd been sporting giving way to a more relaxed curve of her spine as she tentatively reached out, soft and gentle, an almost childlike smile gracing her delicate features as her fingers grazed the velveteen dresses her girls used in the Christmas extravaganza.

Medda watched the girl. There was a stiffness to her, an alertness not seen in people who hadn't had to fight through the worst aspects of life. She was sweet, if a bit quiet. Her hair was unusually short and unevenly cut, just an inch or so above her shoulders. Her hands were red and raw like most working-girls' but they lacked the blackened tint and ink-stains of her newsie friends. When the girl picked up on Medda watching her, she lifted her eyes and stared directly back at her, steel in her eyes..

She wondered where Spot had picked her up. He wasn't known for keeping girls around, though they never seemed to linger far from him either. He was a handsome kid after all, with those fierce blue eyes and that silver tongue.

She could see how this one was different, how she might have caught his eye. She was sharp eyes and steel wrapped in a pretty package. "I've never seen so much pink in one place," the girl laughed, catching Medda's eyes on her. A very pretty sweet package.

The singer smiled, and looked at her. "Violet," Medda said with a strong nod.

"What?" her eyebrows furrowed.

"It's your color, darling," Medda smiled, holding up a deep purple skirt. "Or," she thought, "maybe red?"

Minutes later she had three dresses and four skirts with matching blouses piled in her arms as Medda ushered her behind the dressing screen to try each of them on so that she could see.

* * *

Racetrack whistled as Spot strode into Tibby's diner. The newsie King only smirked sauntering over to the cluster of Manhattan newsies with his usual swagger.

"To what do I owe the pleasa'?" Race joked, taking his hat off in a mock bow. He wasn't a tall boy. Clocking in at about Spot's height, but he was stockier, more broad shouldered with short dark hair that curled under his hat and brown eyes. He was famous for spending every spare penny at the sheepshead races, losing every bet he could manage.

Spot inclined his head slightly in reciprocation. "I was in the neighborhood," he answered smoothly, sliding the booth aside Racetrack and Skittery. Mush and Crutchy were spaced out on the opposite corner of the booth fighting over the couple fries in the basket in the middle of the table.

Cowboy sat next to them, nudging Crutchy over a bit to create space. He was missing his usual red bandana tied around his neck. "Glad ya could join us," the brown-eye borough leader grinned.

Kid Blink snorted, leaning over the top of the booth by Jack's head as he looked at Spot, "That's some jiggery-pokery, right there," he laughed.

Kid had a big mouth.

And a small brain if the grin that spread over his face as Spot's freezing eyes settled threateningly on him was any indication. "Came strolling into town with a pretty lil' skirt on his arm. Funny too. What accent did she have, by the way? Was'at irish? Sounded different."

"'Ey, Blink," Race laughed, "Might wanna shut your trap 'fore Conlon shuts it for ya."

Blink gulped as the table burst into raucous laughter. Spot smiled slightly. The Manhattan boys were a breath of fresh air sometimes, a little less rough than his Brooklynites and always up for a laugh. They were wild and unkempt, no order or rules to speak of. He wanted that sometimes.

Others, he couldn't stand the chaos. Jack was their friend before he was their leader and the kind of chaos that let loose simply couldn't be allowed in Brooklyn. And Spot loved Brooklyn, no matter how harsh the streets or the people

It only made them tougher, smarter, stronger.

Brooklyn was home. Brooklyn was him. He couldn't imagine leaving.

"What'cha say, Spot," Jack grinned, spinning his glass of water in his ink-stained hand. "Who is she?"

"Calm yourselves," Spot replied coolly. "Her little brother's one a' my newsies. I was just walkin' 'er ta Medda's- they're playin' dress-up for the mornin'."

"Gotta new showgirl ta look forward too?" Racetrack grinned hopefully.

Spot fixed him with a look and said shortly, "No." The fact that their interest angered him so much was a clear indicator he had gotten much too close to the girl than was good for him.

"Oooo, that touched a nerve," the half-italian, half-irish, but all-american almost giggled into his glass of water. It took Spot a lot of effort not to roll his eyes at the gambler.

"How long ya stayin'?" Jack asked.

"Few hours," Spot shrugged indifferently. "Gotta be back for the evenin' edition."

"Brooklynites need a babysitta'?" Jack teased. Spot made his boys nervous, all except Racetrack and Kid Blink, at least, but he knew Spot better than most. They took up leadership around the same time, albeit under _very_ different circumstances. Both had done their time in the refuge. Similar ghosts chased after their heels, so despite their differences, their _many_ differences, they were friends of a sort, tentative allies.

Spot didn't rise to the bait, "Nah, but the goil does."

She didn't, but it made the Manhattan boys laugh and the less they knew about his lil' irish girl meant the less the other boroughs knew, and that'd keep her safe.

"Legs and Bait still runnin' 'round for youse?" The Manhattan boys were particularly fond of his youngest newsies. Manhattan was their most common run, seeing as the manhattan boys rarely fought. They were good-timers, antagonizers, hit-and-runners. They didn't hold a guy down and keep him there like Brooklyn or Queens. Spot supposed they were just _nicer_.

Out of all the kids, Legs and Bait were here most often, running messages to Jack and Race. Spot nodded.

"Send the little bugger back once in while, will ya?" Skittery asked in his usual grumpy manner, "The kid cleaned me outta marbles an' I need 'em back."

"'E beat ya fair and square, Skitts," Mush teased.

"Fair and Square, my ass, Mush."

"Legs didn't cheat," Race said as if the mere idea was preposterous.

"Comin' from the cheata' 'imself!" Skittery laughed loudly, the others joining in even as Race loudly defended himself over the jingle of their voices.

Maybe, just maybe Spot missed the Manhattan boys a little when he was in Brooklyn. Just maybe.


	36. Chapter 36

A/N: Hey all! I was moving and getting settled so that's why I've been MIA but I've a few more chapter for ya and a lovely review (Shoutout to ME(Guest)) reminded me I have readers! So thanks for sticking with me! I love you!

 _to my reviewers..._

ME: Thanks so much for your encouragement and for reading my stories! I love you too, fam!

Jaywing25: Here's a new chapter! Spot and Rois are back together! Neither wants to acknowledge that kiss quite yet though, so sorry!

Guestanewone: You're so so sweet! The whole integrated dialogue/action thing is just kind of my style I guess, but practice makes perfect friend so just keep plugging away! Write whatever you want whenever you want!

Jean-Moddalle: As always, thank you! :)

Succulentie: Thank you so much for your input. I'll try to make that more clear. I think the working girls thing was somewhat accurate- women who worked in factories at least wouldn't have had the nicest hands and doing your own wash by hand will make your hands kind of dry and crack-y. Jack will come up a bit more too.

Viola: Thank you so much for your review! Spot's relationship with the Brooklyn boys is important! and they'll be back soon, so don't you worry- more Rae is comin up.

FluffyMarshmallows: I really really want to incorporate her unique skill set more, but I am, as of now, hitting a bit of a wall I'm not sure where I want the sory to go anymore. She will get to fight more, but I'm not sure if it'll be on behalf of Brooklyn or of herself.

* * *

"The hell did she give you?" Spot mumbled as he helped her carry the their bags of clothes Medda had forced into her arms.

"Skirts, blouses, a nightgown, a pair of shoes and that other bag is for you boys- bunch of button-ups and pants and some socks, I think," she answered, eyes tilting upward as she tried to remember everything Medda had stuffed into the bags they were lugging back across the Brooklyn bridge. "She was really sweet."

"Sure took a shine ta ya," he said.

"She told me ta come back an' see da show sometime." She ducked her head. It was a strange quirk of hers, he noticed. She was pretty. She was intelligent. Hell, she was even funny. She had a way of fitting in where needed, but she never saw it. She didn't think she belonged. She didn't see the way Medda had immediately taken to her. She didn't see the way the younger boys had all but adopted her as their collective big sister. She didn't see the way Red and Pick and Yo-Yo and Frenchy and Skiff and even Czech had all accepted her as a part of Brooklyn.

She belonged just as much as any one of them, but she still saw herself as the outsider.

It dissipated when they were alone, the world falling away until it was just them, walking down a street… She was quick to smile then, quick to laugh. Her eyes danced and her cheeks blushed pink, speaking unreservedly. He wanted her to be like that all the time, anted her to blush and smiled like when he kissed her head earlier.

He shook his head- now wasn't the time.

With a new set of clothes to dirty and a new stockpile for each of the boys her sewing duties had seen an immediate decline. After a few well-timed questioned, one pretty little pout, a few bats of her eyelashes and rather well put together argument combined with her clean bill of health and a promise not to do anything stupid, Spot reluctantly agreed to take her selling.

He bought a few extra for her to carry, a self-satisfied smirk on his face as her eyes widened at the near 200 pape stack he carried. He could admit to himself, only himself, that he liked to impress the girl. She was all sorts of tough- snapped at the boys when they were out of line and scared the bejeezus out of them when it was needed, all while being totally sweet and protective of the younger boys.

It was hard for her to sell. Most looked strangely at a girl selling newspapers and walked by with disapproving glares. Men shook their heads and scoffed, looking down at her over their thin noses and through their thick-paned glasses. Women gasped and pointed, gossiped and hurried away. They ignored her outright. If that wasn't enough, her accent was still thick and at points it made her hard to understand. He liked it, liked the thickness to her words and the subtle injections of gaelic into her english vocabulary, the nicknames she'd so easily bestowed upon him and his boys. It was a problem Eoghan didn't share. His accent wasn't nearly as thick. The prejudice some held against her irish-immigration status put a damper on her pape-count that it didn't on her brother. She could sell a decent amount, enough to make her a few pennies, but it wasn't enough to buy much of anything.

It was a blow to her ego, but she took it in stride. She knew why they didn't like her. She knew there was nothing to be done about it. It didn't matter. Spot sold enough for the both of them. In fact, having her near actually increased business. More so for the younger boys then him.

When she sold with Bait and Eoghan a block or so down from him where he could keep a close watch on anything that dared near her and the boys, Bait came running up after him, money bag full. He babbled about the boom in business and how a bunch of nice ladies had all bought papers to help him and Eoghan take care of their 'big sister' and how a couple of boys had come to talk to her and had ended up buyin' papes instead.

Spot had seen them- a couple of pickpockets and a pair of suited up schoolboys about his age had come to talk to her. She'd turned them down pretty fast, setting the cute little boys on them instead and guilting them into buying at least one pape.

It was a good hook for a day with a bad headline.

"Trolley strike drags on for third week," was an utterly boring and unexciting headline.

"What the hell St. Clair," Skiff muttered angrily, cursing the Editor as they sat around the _Brooklyn Daily Eagle_ 's distribution center and read over the headlines.

"This is shit," Czech shook his head.

"Can't be that bad," Rois smiled, attempting to be positive as she read over Spot's shoulder. _Blah Blah Blah Ellis Island Blah Blah Blah politician Blah Blah baby born with two heads- wait what?_ "Baby born with two heads?" she read again.

"Gotta be from Queens," Red grinned, prompting Frenchy, Yo-Yo, and a few others to laugh.

Digger growled, kicking at the wheel of one of the wagons. "Where's all the good stuff. I'm getting damned tired of these shitty-ass headlines."

"Calm down boys," Spot said, confident as ever as he strode atop the wagon and addressed his newsies, his subjects. "Headlines, don't sell papes," he said loudly. "Newsies sell papes. Time to carry the banner, boys- get to it."

With a roaring shout and a few whoops and hollers the boys raced out the doors of the distribution center and out onto the streets. Rois stayed behind with Spot, waiting until he felt he could jump down from the wagon and re-join her on the ground. She was smiling at him softly, in that way where she ducked her head a bit, afraid she was giving away too much in her eyes.

"You're real good at t'at," she told him.

"What?"

"Motivatin' 'em," she drawled, then looked out over the small corwd of rowdy raggedly boys, "they need it."


	37. Chapter 37

A/N: Classes are going to pick up soon and Idk when I'l update, but you know me! I always update eventually.

 _Review Responses..._

 _FluffyMarshmallows:_ I'm back, baby!

 _Jean Moddalle:_ Thanks again! I appreciate your constant reviews :)

 _Succuentie:_ Sorry for the Gap! It's kinda hard for me to update regularly just because of life, but I'm thankful that you all stick with me and this story anyway. Rois has changed, she's not as hard or guarded, because she knows she doesn't have to be anymore. She can be herself and it doesn't make her any less strong or tough, it just means she's in a better place. She's happier. Spot's a good leader, or at least that's what I always pictured and a good leader is a good leader not just because they command respect, or are scary but because they can inspire people, they've _earned_ that respect. That's what I think, anyway :)

 _Guestanewone:_ Oh gosh! Thank you so much for your review! And ANYTIME! I'd love to see something you've written at some point if you'd let me. I bet you've got some good stuff.

 _Emmalicious:_ Hahaha- sorry for the mild confusion, he was referring to the short forehead peck! I'm glad you liked the little references- there are more to come!

* * *

Spot took her to Manhattan that night to see Medda's show. She'd helped him sell the evenin' paper and then gently dragged him across the bridge, twining her finger in between his. "Legs ran inta 'er yesterday an' said she told 'im ta tell me ta come visit," she explained. Nudging him with her shoulder, she grinned a little lopsidedly and said, "T'ought ya could use a break."

He raised an eyebrow. "A break?"

She rolled her eyes. He was under the impression that he had to be the unshakable, unbeatable, and always unphased newsie King at all times. She thought that was a burden he shouldn't have to bear. Not alone. "Yeah, thought t'at stick up yer ass might be a little uncomfortable."

She grinned widely, teasing him so confidently he couldn't even pretend to be angry. A small smile grew. She laughed triumphantly, her head falling back, brown hair blown back by the wind. He shook his head, taking her arm and tugging her forward slightly.

"Can't keep yer mouth shut can ya?"

"Why should I?" she grinned, leaning forward into him slightly.

He exhaled harshly, something flipping around in his chest at the sight of her staring up at him, smirk on her face and the green in her eyes glinting brightly in the light of the setting sun. She was close, if he just-

The moment was broken as a horse-drawn carriage trotted by as a quicker-than-average pace. The both of them jumped, backing away and taking a breath. When his eyes flitted back to hers, it was to offer an arm with a teasing grin and lead her to the theatre, though she needed no direction.

With her usual flair and elegance, Medda welcomed the pair of teenagers into her theatre and set them up in a booth to watch the show. "Enjoy, sweet-pea," she smiled, brushing a hand lightly over Rois's brown hair and giving her a discreet wink as she nudged her towards Spot and then disappeared in a swirl of skirts, clicking heels, and sparkling gemstones.

Spot shook his head, grinning lightly as Rois sat gingerly on the thick fabric covering her chair. He lowered himself rather haphazardly beside her, leaning back in his chair and getting comfortable as the lights darkened and the music began. She leaned forward, intrigued. Her face glowed in the darkness, the strangely colored light reflecting off her skin like the gemstones on Medda's skirts.

Laughing, at the scene on stage, she turned to glance at him, surprised to find him dozing beside her, one arm stretched over the back of her chair, his head lolling backward. "Spot," she whispered.

His eyes fluttered beneath their lids, his finger twitching slightly over his stomach, but he otherwise didn't stir. He'd been working non-stop lately, keeping his boys safe and happy and fed. She knew there were other problems as well, things going on in other boroughs, other parts of the city that she didn't know about. There were too many things swirling around in his head.

He needed a break.

She'd meant for this to be fun, for the two of them. He could let his guard down a little bit. She supposed this might be as low as that guard could possibly be. Her slight disappointment turned to something like pride as she smiled to herself she shook her head and sat back against the cushion to watch the show while Spot dozed of beside her, content to let her watch over them.

* * *

Jack Kelly could scarcely believe his eyes. Spot Conlon the most feared newsie in New York, King of Brooklyn, was sitting in a top booth at Ms. Medda's in the cushy fabric chairs with a _girl_. Medda laughed when he asked who she was and with a mischievous grin told him to go on up and find out for himself.

So he did of course.

She was watching him when he entered the booth. There was a hard stare on her rather delicate features. He'd have called it a glare, except she wasn't really frowning, just staring at him.

Her scrutiny was rather uncomfortable so he introduced himself first. "Jack Kelly," he said with a sweeping bow and a large smirk, "at your service. And _who_ might you be?"

"Cowboy," she connected the dots, pegging his moniker on him easily, and never answering him. "Manhattan newsie."

His eyebrows furrowed. "How'd you know t'at?"

She grinned, the harshness falling from her face as an amused smirk overtook her. Her eyes shined as her lips pulled upward. If she wasn't so pretty, he thought, she'd be kind of scary. Those knowing eyes of hers and smirk-like smile were a little unsettling.

"Spot," she said, turning away from him but never quite turning her back on him either. She laid a hand on the newsie's shoulder. He was sort of slumped strangely in the chair, very un-Spot-like, but he sat up quickly at her touch.

It was then, Jack noticed that Brooklynite had actually been _asleep_.

"Gotta visita'," she grinned, nodding to Jack.

Spot's face fell into a hasty glare. "What do you want, Kelly?" He didn't bother getting up from the chair.

Jack thought it was funny how the girl smothered her laughter as she took her seat beside Spot comfortable, like she belonged there, but he didn't let it show, instead, grabbing at his chest and pretending to fall back as he said, "Oh, _ow_ , you wound me, Spot. Ise just wanted ta see 'ow and ol' friend was doin'."

"Jackie-boy," Spot sat up, sounding bored, but the way his eyebrows arched, let Cowboy know his next words would be scahing, "you wouldn'-"

"You got in for free," Medda called scoldingly up at the newsies in the booth, "At least pay attention."

Both Jack and Rois leaned over the back and said with hushed voices and wide smiles, "I'm sorry, Ms. Medda."

Spot rolled his eyes and pulled his hat down over his eyes as he crossed his arms over his chest. Let Rois enjoy the show, he was still set on taking that nap, Jack wouldn't overstay his welcome. Probably.

As Rois turned back to watched the show, Jack once again asked her name. She playfully shushed him, sitting back in her chair and nudging Spot to see if he was awake. "Jus watch da show, Doll," he mumbled, hearing the small laugh that bubbled out of her lips and smiling just a little bit. She leant forward, eyes rapt on the stage, quickly succumbing to the music, costumes, and light like she'd never seen before.

Happiness was a good look on her, Spot thought, as he looked at her under the brim of his hat.

"Where'd ya pick 'er up?" Jack whispered, voice slightly teasing as he sat beside Spot. He didn't miss the arm Spot slung over the back of her chair: _Mine_.

"Brooklyn," Spot murmured harshly. Jack laughed, holding up his hands in a gesture of backing-off. There was a pencil in one hand and an old newspaper in the other. Spot didn't think anything of it until they left and the Manhattan newsie passed her the paper with a wink before scurrying off.

Her eyebrows rose in surprise, lips falling apart. "Spot look at this," she gasped.

Two sketches, two beautiful renderings. One of Spot, closed in on himself, arms crossed over his chest, feet propped up and hat over his eyes. And one of Rois, thick lashes framing wide eyes, lips closed, her hair falling perfectly to the side to frame her face. Together, sharing the page.


	38. Chapter 38

**A/N:** Hey everyone! This chapter is starting into a new series of events that'll probably last about the next ten chapters or so. Updates, I'm warning you, will be very low. I have a lot of work on my plate, but I AM NOT ABANDONING THIS STORY, I PROMISE. I love you guys! Thanks for continuing to read!

 _To my lovely reviewers..._

 _Guestanewone:_ I switch schools actually, but it's no big deal. I'm livin'. I just have a LOT of new work that I need to do. I'm glad that you like the musical parrallel. I'm sort of mushing the two together because i love them both so much i couldn't choose.

 _Jean_ - _Moddalle_ : Your review made me laugh. Thanks for reading, as always!

 _Jaywing25_ : I'M SORRY! I LOVE A GOOD HEART WRENCHING SLOW BURN IS ALL! YOURE REVIEW MADE ME LAUGH A WHOLE WHOLE LOT THOUGH! THANK YOU!

 _Dakotadeborah04_ : Hey! I don't think I've seen your name pop up on a review before, so WELCOME! Thanks for the review and I'm glad you like the story!

 _Viola_ : I'm sorry Im so slow to update! But I promise I'm working! Thanks for your review and I'm glad you liked the carriage scene :)

 _DreamDancer_ : Oh my gosh, Your review was so sweet, thank you so so so much!

* * *

"You want a hundred papes, you owe me a dime," the distribution manager, Mr. Batel, the boys called him "Beatle" snarled, huffing an oxygen-deprived cough all over and increasingly angry Skiff. Digger was already causing a scene behind him, well on his way to stirring up Rat, Czech and Diego. Pick was trying to calm the bulkier bow down but to no avail. Behind them, Frenchy, Cork and Rev were, rubbernecking their head to get a glimpse of what was happening. Skiff was about to pop his cap when Spot interrupted.

"What's goin' on' Beatel?" His voice was heavy, eyes dark as he eyed the rather large and meaty man behind the counter.

"Publisha' raised the prices," the man said, face pinching in annoyance, "Sixty cents per hundred."

"What happened ta payin' fifty." Spot's voice was hard.

"Well, I said they raised the price, didn' I?" Beatle wheezed, thick eyebrows furrowing in anger as his fuzzy grey mustache twitched. "Buy yer papes 'r git outta 'ere. This place is for Eagle employees only." He waved the newsie off but his attention was already elsewhere.

"Breathe on me one more time, ya sweaty pig, I dare ya," Rois's rather loud and clearly angered accented voice rang through the distribution center.

"You an I ain't done," Spot hissed before pushing off the counter in search of the cause of her distress. If she hit the wrong person here an all out brawl 'tween his boys and the scabba's would start. He had complete faith in his boys, they'd send those scabbas home bloodied and beaten but they wouldn't be able to show their face in here again. And the little boys were here today. He didn't want Legs, or Bait, or even Eoghan and Bones in the middle of a fight like that.

He reached her side just as she cocked back her arm and shot her first directly into the neatly dressed scabba' leaning over her. The arrogant smile on his face fell only seconds before the skin of her knuckles collided harshly with his nose, a sharp _crack_ splitting the air.

Every newsie in the vicinity, scabba's and Spot's boys alike, snapped their heads around to lock eyes on the source.

The scabba, blood now dripping from what Spot guess was probably a broken nose and dripping onto his nice brown suit and crisp white shirt, stumbled clumsily backward, his hands fling up to cover his nose as he cursed. "You bitch!" he screamed, voice coming out nasally and strange. "You hit me!"

"Shuah did." Her lips were set into a firm line, eyes dark and dangerous as she looked at him, hands still clenched into firsts, the knuckles on her right hand pink from contact.

"Oh, you're in for it now, you heifer!"

"Get outta 'ere fore Ise soak ya an' all yer buddies," Spot cut in coldy, stepping between Rois and the lanky scabba whose friends had made their way over to flank him on either side.

"Found a whore to warm yer bed, 'ey Spot," the oldest asked, looking down at the newsie King. Rois saw the recognition in their eyes, they knew each other. There was a history there that she wasn't privy to, but the ripple of Spot's muscles as he slowly coiled his fingers into a fist told her it wasn't good history. "Can't believe yer lettin' 'er run around like that." Mildly confused she glanced down to her white blue button down and the navy colored skirt that pulled tight around her waist and flared out after her hips. He made her… nervous. But Spot stood firmly in front of her as the other boy droned. "Brooklyn's dangerous. You should keep a better eye on 'er."

Was he… threatening her?

Spot's glared darkened, but the other boy didn't flinch.

"Dollface can take care of 'erself!" Bait announced as fiercely as he could being as short and slight as he was. Hurriedly, Rois, clutched his shoulder and hauled him back towards her so he could not near the scabba crowd. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Red holding Eoghan in a similar fashion.

Spot smirked at the intrusion, proud of his boys. "Git yer boys outta here, Wilson, fore my boys decide ta pay ye back for da disrespect."

Turns out, Wilson wasn't as dumb as he looked. He and his boys left quickly and quietly, their usual stacks of papes in hand.

"Sorry," Rois apologized.

He waved it off. It wasn't her fault. "Lemme see yer hand."

She shook out her fingers and smiled, shaking her head. "It- Its fine, really."

He held out his hand and looked at her until she sighed, lifting her long fingered hand and laying it in his in compliance. Her knuckles were bruised they'd swell a bit, hurt for a little while, but she hadn't seriously injured herself. She'd be fine.

"Don't wander off," he told her before hopping back up to Beatle's window to debate over the pape prices.

"I don't care what the you said, I wanna know what St. Clair said!"

St. Clair Kenway was the editor of the _Brooklyn Daily Eagle_. Nothing happened without his and the owner's say so. If the price had been jacked up, Spot wanted answers. Business had slowed considerably since the end of the war. But as far as he knew, _The Eagle_ had been doing fairly well despite the lack of clever headlines lately- circulation was up this month and as such, so were profits. Or so he'd thought.

Spot Conlon didn't take being wrong very well at all.

He thought about the options. They could try another paper- but Beatel said it wall all across the city. They could refuse to pay, wait it out. But however long they could go without, the rich could go longer. Sides if they didn't pay, didn't sell, someone else would come and take their selling spots right out from underneath 'em. At the end of the day, orphan kids selling newspapers every mornin, noon, and night just to scrape by didn't have the power to take back those extra ten cents a pape. Not on their own. So Spot cursed the publishers of New York city, Pulitzer in particular. It had to be his fault. Then, he rallied his boys, had them pay for their papes, spotted Bones and Smokes a few cents when their pocket money didn't cover the raised price of their usual stack, and let them back out into town to carry the banner.

When they were done he'd have Rat and Smokes check out Harlem and Queens to see if their pape prices had been raised as well. Legs he'd send to Manhattan- not to ask question but to observe, and Czech to the Bronx- his older sister was living there anyway, he might want to check on her. Cork he'd send with Bones to visit that pretty shopkeep Cork was sweet on while they scouted out what was going on in Woodside.

When he's seen everyone cards, when he knew everyone's play, then he'd play his own.


	39. Chapter 39

_A/N: Hey!_

 _Viola: She only ever reads completed stories and you got her to read mine! Ohmygosh! Thank you so much! You're absolutely amazing. The strike is really coming up this chapter, Jack pops up and everything!_

 _Emmalicious: Lol, he's a jerkwad who'll come up again later But we've a strike to get on with in the meantime! Also... do you do ballet? that's so cool!_

 _Jaywing25: I love love love love love that you pick out specific things that you liked! (I too have never done drugs as I am a social anxious introvert who really just wants to nerd out and watch movies) Its coming, I promise! They're building up!_

 _Guestanewone: Schools really really busy for me, and I only have a little bit written after this so... yeah, sorry, but updates will be slow. I promise, I promise, I promise I'll keep writing though! I'm glad you liked the last chapter, this one has some interesting things too, though less Spot/Rois interaction._

 _Dakotadeborah04: Thank you so much for the encouragement!_

 _Jean-Moddalle: Hahaha, indeed :)_

* * *

After the morning paper, Spot sat atop the stock pile of boxes and junk atop their pier. His newsies had been reporting back all morning that prices for papes all over the city had indeed risen that extra ten cents per hundred.

And Manhattan was fixin' to fight it.

Woodside, Flushing, Harlem, the Bronx, and even Queens (whose relationship with Brooklyn was rocky at best) sent messengers to ask if Brooklyn was joining the fight. They never said that they were.

So he waited- the source would show up to ask him sooner rather than later. He'd be ready.

Beside him, outstretched with one leg before her, the other slightly bent, and her head on his shoulder, her dress risen just enough for him to see the bottom of her calves, Rois closed her eyes and basked in the sun- the newsie problems were nothing compared to her daily life back in the rings. Even with the sudden rise in tensions today she'd been calm and cool, delightfully happy and easy to laugh. She did wonders for morale.

He experimentally blew into his harmonica, but the sounds come out strange. Something was blocking one of the airways.

She peaked an eye open, looking at him quizzically. When he blew harder into it, producing an ear-splitting screech, she plucked it from his fingers and stole it away from him. When he grunted at her, she shot him a playful glare and held the golden-colored instrument up to the light. Spotting the blockage, she took her skirt and gently rubbed the mouthpiece of the instrument, freeing the blockage. Looking at him victoriously she lifting it to her lips and blew a soft sweet note before handing it back to him.

"Play me a song, Spot," she whispered, echoing his own words. _Sing me a song, Dollface._

He laughed lightly, obliging her as she scooched herself closer.

Abruptly, the sweet tune came to a halt, as Spot caught Red motioning to him from across the docks. They had visitors. He played a harsh and loud note that caught the attention of every newsie on the dock. "Its Cowboy. He brought Boots and some other kid. Legs is with them," Pick reported.

"The boys'll escort 'im in. I knowse what he wants," Spot said, casually sitting atop the box pile and motioning for Rois to do the same as he put the harmonica back to his mouth.

She watched curiously as the three boys walked down the pier. The Brooklyn newsies following behind them closely, Red and Czech walking alongside little Legs who appeared to be leading them.

She recognized Jack Kelly right away. The red bandana around his neck was a bit of a giveaway. His eyes locked with hers for a moment. He looked confused, but when she waggled her eyebrows at him he looked away, amused. He had floppy brown hair and bright brown eyes she could see sparkled even at this distance. His friend was impeccably well dressed. Though the hem of his pants was polluted by slight mud stains, his shirt was tucked in and jacket buttoned. His hat sat perfectly upon his head, only a few wisps of curly hair creeping out from underneath. The shorter darker skinned boy with them looked like a newsie, his shirt haphazardly buttoned and only partially tucked into his too-large pants held up by a pair of dark brown suspenders.

When they got close enough that they had to look up at Spot and her atop the boxes, he elegantly and arrogantly jumped down and landed only a foot or so in front of them. "If it ain't Jack be nimble, Jack be quick," the newsie King commented looking them up and down.

Jack met Spot's challenging grin with one of his own. "You're movin' up in the world, Spot- got a ocean view and everything."

Spot smirked and so did Jack, the two of them sizing each other up. Rois got the feeling that it was a game- each trying to outdo the other. The well-dressed boy Jack brought with him looked nervous as Spot took a step to the side, circling Jack slightly. "So I'm hearin' things from little birdies in Harlem and Queens and all over. They're chirpin' in my ear: 'Jackie-boy's Newsies are playin' like they're goin' on strike -'"

At that exact moment, the nervous boy blurted out, "We're not playing. We are on strike - it's -" Rois's eyes widened at the interruption.

Spot's eyes flicked like a switchblade in his direction. "What's this, Jackie boy?" he asked insultingly, looking back to the Manhattan leader briefly. "Some kind of walkin' mouth?"

Jack didn't look phased by the biting tone. Rois guessed he heard it more often than most if Manhattan and Brooklyn were on as good terms as Spot had earlier implied. They'd certainly seemed friendly at the theatre. Spot was… well, he was Spot. You got used to it. "It's a mouth with a brain," Jack asserted, "And if you got half-a-one you'll listen. Tell 'im, Davey."

Davey, she put a name to the face, smiling to herself as he looked to Jack with wide eyes, "Me?"

If he didn't start soon, Spot'd lose interest. He was testing them, she thought. He'd tossed around the idea of a strike in his head. The way his eyes had lingered for too long on the trolley strike article had told her something was wrong. She asked him tentatively about it and he shook his head. Stikes were bad business. Brooklyn was powerful, but to make the papers do anything they'd have to cause the scene of the century. A lot of people could get hurt. Kids. He said he was unwilling to out them in danger if there was no guarantee they could stick it out.

Manhattan's strike could rally the newsies of New York or it could ruin them. It depended on the foundation. Spot wasn't about to join a lost cause.

David sputtered as Spot circled him, his piercing eyes looking all to much like a predators as Davey stood still. "Uh... We started the strike but we can't do it alone, so... we've been talkin' to Newsies all over the city...

"So they told me," Spot said cooly. "And what did they tell you?

David looked nervously at the circling brooklynites at his back, and then briefly to the strange girl lounging atop the boxes, her skirts rising just enough to be scandalous- showing her small worn out heeled boots and high socks rising up her calves and under the skirt. Spot didn't like that glance. But Davey's eyes returned to his quick enough, looking a little stronger, a little more sure. "That... they're all waiting to see what Spot Conlon does. That you're the key…"

Oh that did it, Rois thought with a spreading grin. The praise had lead Spot to straighten his spine slightly, that smug smirk making a reappearance he puffed out his chest slightly. Davey obviously saw his opening and he took it, laying on the flattery. "That Spot Conlon is the most respected and... _famous_ newsie in New York, and probably everywhere else…"

Spot stopped circling, and as he did, so did the others. He waited for David to continue, his face unmoving.

"And if Spot Conlon joins the strike, they'll join and we'll be unstoppable so you gotta join and, well," he trailed off, "You gotta…"

Spot nodded. Rois thought he looked pleasantly surprised, but to anyone else he seemed as calculative as always, turned to Jack. "You're right," he said, "Brains." His face hardened as he turned away from them, "But I got brains, too. And more than half-a-one. How do I know you punks won't run the first time some goon comes atcha with a club?" Rois stiffened at the hardness in his voice. "How do I know you're in it to win?"

"'Cause I'm tellin' you," Jack said firmly. The strength in that statement spoke volume as to their friendship, but Rois didn't think it'd be enough. It'd take Spot a whole hellave a lot to put his newsies on the line.

"Not good enough, Jackie-boy," Spot shook his head. "You gotta show me," he said firmly, turning to walk away.

Rois gasped, jumping and sitting straight up as Jack rushed forward in front of Spot, anger written all over his handsome features. Spot looked unfazed, at least until Jack started talking. "Maybe you lost your guts, Spotty-boy-" Spot froze. For a second she wondered if he would hit him. "Or maybe you traded 'em to some chicken for that beak of yours. Maybe you gotta show me you ain't afraid to join the strike." Jack said, leaning into Spot's face as he baited him.

That was his ploy, she realized as Spot stared. He was hoping to taut him, bait him into joining the cause. It was clever in a really recklessly dumb kind of way. She'd later come to realize that 'cleverly reckless' summed up Jack Kelly pretty well, but in the moment, Murder was in the air.

The Brooklyn newsies were coiled in anger, their eyes locked on Spot's next move. They'd follow his lead whatever it was. David and his friend were paralyzed. For an excruciating moment, Spot did nothing but stare. Jack didn't back down.

Unexpectedly, Spot grinned widely. "Nice try, pal. But that's just what I'm talkin' about." The his smile dropped as he strode past Jack and turned back, "Show me this strike ain't just some kid's do-or-dare, then we'll talk."


End file.
